


the die is cast (but the wheel is still turning)

by sparklingsparkysparkles



Category: Legacies (TV 2018), The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate History, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Human, Appearances from beloved TVD and TO characters, But Lizzie has her own arc and journey, Caesar's Civil War, Crossing the Rubicon, F/F, F/M, Gen, Hosie, Lanzzie?, Lizzie and Landon honestly just happened, Mostly about Hope and Josie, Roman AU, Roman Republic AU but diverges drastically from actual history, Slow Burn, There will be no Lizzie or Landon or Alaric bashing of any kind
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:14:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 56,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24727312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparklingsparkysparkles/pseuds/sparklingsparkysparkles
Summary: All seemed lost when the rogue general Klaus overran Rome and destroyed the Senate's best legions. As Consul Alaric Saltzman prepares to make a last stand in Greece, news arrives that Klaus' daughter has been captured.OrHope has made peace with her imminent (and likely painful) death as she sits in her prison cell. But Alaric has other plans for her and his daughter Josette is central to them.Roman Republic AU
Relationships: Hope Mikaelson/Josie Saltzman, Landon Kirby/Lizzie Saltzman
Comments: 130
Kudos: 176





	1. alea iacta est

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> News arrives at Alaric's camp in Greece.

The die is cast.

Those were the words uttered by Julius Caesar as he marched his legions across the Rubicon, declaring war on the Senate and triggering a chain of events culminating in the final destruction of the Roman Republic.

* * *

"Apollo."

"I beg your pardon?" The woman in front of her sounded confused. Hope pushed herself off the shoddy cot - the only thing in her cramped cell - and opened her eyes.

"Apollo," Hope repeated, dimly aware that her throat was dry and her voice hoarse, "He is my deity."

Her eyes landed on a woman who looked young - almost too young to be a priestess. It wasn't exactly uncommon for fathers in need of money to sell their daughters to temples right after maturity, but the woman looked healthy and dignified - signs that she was nourished and educated, luxuries only afforded by nobles who were unlikely to resort to such desperate means. Perhaps she had willingly turned her back on a life of extravagance for religion? It was not unheard of, but still...

"Forgive me, Lady Hope. I must confess that I do not follow."

"Are you not here to give me my last prayers? I am being executed, aren't I?" Hope said, her eyes meeting the woman's. This strange priestess had warm brown orbs and curly brunette hair that fell just below her shoulder. She was half a head taller than her, and easily the most beautiful creature Hope had laid her eyes on in a long time...

Hope ran her tongue over her lips.

_Maybe she's a priestess of Venus?_

The pretty priestess chuckled.

"I am not a priestess, Lady Hope. And you are not being executed."

Hope decided the not-priestess had an adorable laugh.

"I am Josette of the Saltzmans, daughter of Alaric, Consul of Rome, General of the legions of Greece."[i] The woman uttered and Hope blinked, the words sinking in, "We have much to discuss," Josette cast her eyes around the tiny cell with dismay, "Somewhere befitting a noblewoman of your status."

**Four Days Ago**

"For eight years, we fought in Gaul! We pacified the barbarians who sacked our city and secured Rome's borders, losing many brothers in doing so.[ii] And how did the Senate repay us? The so-called nobles demanded that we disband our legions. That we surrender our conquests. And that I, your commander, who marched by your side, fought by your side and bled by your side stand trial for made-up crimes! They want to destroy me, for I care not for their debauchery, but the common people's welfare. You, honest men who I am honored to call my brothers, did not cower in the face of their shrieks, just as you did not cower in the face of a barbarian army four times our number at Alesia. We stood together and marched on Rome to liberate our home from the tyrants holding it hostage, and those rotten nobles fled like the cowards they are at the sight of our eagles! Now our enemies have neither money nor men left and soon, we will crush them and take what is rightfully ours! Money and land every good soldier is due and glory for our ancestors!"

His soldiers roared and Klaus grinned. The war was going very well for him. That was not always the case, of course. It seemed as though his career was over merely a few months ago, if not his life. His men were exhausted after eight years of fighting and yearned to return home to their families, not to mentioned they hadn't been paid in almost a year. They demanded he discharges them and settles his debts. That put Klaus in a tricky spot. That old bastard Richard Lockwood was demanding that he return to Rome to stand trial for numerous crimes: abuse of power, bribery, extortion, multiple counts of illegal warfare, and perversion of elections - all of which he was guilty of, of course, not to mention the few dozen murders he wasn't even being charged with.

Klaus sniggered.

He had sought to bribe about fifty Senators to ensure a bill granting him the governorship of Macedonia, and with it, immunity from prosecution, would be approved - a flawless plan, really. Of course, he had no way of knowing that wimp Cicero would suddenly grow a backbone and rally the Senate against him. The vote was lost, curse the bastards, and he had to retain his legions to dissuade them from trying to bring him back to Rome by force. Unfortunately, most of his money was tied up in Italy, and what gold he did have access to he squandered on bribes. That left him with no money to settle the debts he owed his legionnaires, much less convince them to extend their enlistment.

Elijah might have returned to Rome and attempted to bribe the jury to ensure his acquittal in a trial, but Klaus was nothing like his ever pretentious brother. He was a gambler. So he made a beeline for Rome with a single legion. All the Senate had to do was to call his bluff - after all, his seven other legions were all stuck in Gaul until spring - and he would be finished. If he surrendered, he would be convicted of treason and thrown off the Tarpeian Rock, if he wasn't put to the sword on the spot.[iii] And if he retreated back to Gaul, his men would mutiny and kill him.

Instead, the fools fled Italy without a fight, and in their haste, left the treasury for him to ransack. Armed with enough gold to buy a kingdom, Klaus paid his men handsomely and marched his army to Spain, where he destroyed five legions the Senate had hoped to sway to its cause. Worse for the fools still, all of Rome thought them cowards after they ran to Greece with their tail between their legs, and nothing disgusted Romans - would-be soldiers and financiers they desperately needed - like cowardice. The last he heard, his enemies had resorted to recruiting illiterate Greek peasants who couldn't even hold a _gladius_ properly.[iv]

Soon, he will crush the Senate's army - armed gang, really - and if he was lucky enough, catch Lockwood alive. Klaus smirked and brought the wine-filled goblet to his lips, fantasizing how he will parade the old bastard down the streets in chains. People are chanting his name and hailing him _Imperator,_ and with a wave of his hand, Lockwood is strangled like an animal.[v] A feast, Klaus decided, was in order as soon as the eleventh and twelfth legions arrived from Italy, hopefully with a few more casks of this delicious Spanish red.

Then, a rider arrived.

* * *

"Father, what's going on?"

There were only a handful of people in the war tent as Lizzie walked in. The meeting ended a few minutes ago, and Lizzie judged it was safe for her to go in. The men around her father - whether in armor or toga - respected her sister but ridiculed her openly. Lizzie had long lost count of all the times Josie held her as she cried after somebody called her a madwoman, or worse. Her father gave her a tight-lipped smile and nodded to the young officer he was speaking to. It was Donovan - a Senator in his early thirties always looking uncomfortable among the statesmen and generals - who answered.

"A letter arrived from King Nicomedes of Bithynia, Lady Elizabeth," Donovan handed Lizzie a parchment, and the blonde quickly unrolled it.[vi]

Jeremy - the praetorian prefect - saluted her father and gave Lizzie a small smile.[vii]

"…it would be my greatest honor as a friend of Rome to help defend it from the renegade Klaus. However, I have given many men to His Excellency Lucien Castle's Parthian campaign and can give no more. Therefore, I can only bid you good luck in your war. May the Gods bless you."

"He would refuse a direct call from the Consul of Rome?" Lizzie was disbelieving.

"Lucien's grip on the East is strong," Her father answered without looking and fired off a few orders to another officer.

"Lucien is a scoundrel who dishonors the _res publica,_ "[viii] A silver-haired Senator with a hot temper - Lockwood - took an aggressive swig of his wine, "and the _oriental_ is a craven for following him.[ix] We should have him killed and annex Bithynia once we've crushed Klaus."

"Bithynia," Her father interceded, "is not yet ours to do with. We must win the war first."

"Forgive me, colleague," Lockwood grumbled.

"Nicomedes was the last king of the East who might have come to our aid. We must now look elsewhere for allies," Josie explained and turned to their father from her usual seat to his right, "Perhaps we should reach out to those in Klaus' camp-"

"Reach out to traitors?" Lockwood scoffed.

"Lady Josette is a most wise and learned noblewoman, we should at least hear her proposal." Lockwood scowled and Donovan squirmed, "Though, given that Niklaus Mikaelson had not been amenable to discussing terms when his position was far more precarious, it seems unlikely that he would be now."

"Senator Donovan misunderstands me. I have no intention of discussing terms with the renegade. But many nobles in Klaus' camp only followed him reluctantly when he took up arms against the Senate. If we offer them amnesty, they may yet be willing to return to the fold." Josie spoke soothingly at Lockwood and the Senator looked somewhat placated. Lizzie was always awed by her twin's ability to defuse any situation.

_But nobody ever jumps on a sinking ship._

Lizzie thought - aloud, she realized, when every head in the tent snapped in her direction. Lockwood was fuming and Donovan shifted in his seat uncomfortably. Josie looked exasperated.

"I will not tolerate defeatism," Her father said warningly, though not harshly, "But Elizabeth has a point. Klaus destroyed my best legions in Spain while the _distinguished,_ " A glance at Donovan and Lockwood, "members of the Senate vacillated over what to do. As it stands, most Romans think it's only a matter of time before Klaus crushes us. We will not have more success in recruiting allies unless we change that perception."

Lockwood grumbled and drank while Donovan squirmed and shifted.

"Now, if that is all, I must take my leave and oversee the men's training," Her father looked at the two Senators in acknowledgment and beckoned at his daughters, "Josette. Elizabeth."

The trio piled out of the tent and her father chuckled.

"Lockwood was calling for my head just two years ago. Now he's my co-Consul at war. The Gods have a strange sense of humor, huh?"

Lizzie fidgeted. Much to her gratitude, her twin knew her far too well not to sense her distress, "Father, please don't be angry at Lizzie-"

"I'm not angry," He faced the twins, "I promise," He told Josie reassuringly and turned to Lizzie, "I know how far you've come, sweetheart, and how difficult this is for you still. Just promise me you will be more careful in the future. You know it's bad to draw people's attention like that, especially someone like Richard Lockwood's."

Lizzie nodded, her lips pressing together. Matthew Donovan was far too polite to say anything rude in her face - or behind her back, but Richard Lockwood was nothing but brash. Her father gave her a typically fatherly smile - full of forgiveness and encouragement, and Lizzie's chest warmed.

The legionnaires around them parted, and a horse came galloping through. The horse came to a stop in front of her father, and the rider jumped off with ease, placing his right fist over his heart before half-extending his arm forward loosely, but firmly at a slight angle, his palm facing down, his hand open but fingers not touching - an exemplar Roman salute. It was only then that Lizzie got a good look at the rider, a middle-aged man with dark skin and toned muscles. His helmet had a dark red crest atop of it running front to back, indicating his status as a senior officer, and he removed it, revealing Dorian's face.

Dorian was one of her father's closest comrades from the last civil war, serving under him first in Africa, then Spain, where her father earned the agnomen Hispanianus.[x] Dorian was one of the most somber people Lizzie had ever met - always grim and stern, never informal, and he was... _grinning?_

Lizzie did a double-take. It was not unheard of for veterans to suddenly snap, for the lack of better word. There was only so much the human mind could endure, after all. Maybe it had finally gotten to Dorian?

"Wonderful news from propraetor Fell, sir,"[xi] Dorian sounded eerily happy as he handed a scroll to her father.

Her father read it, then paused, blinked, and read it again.

"Send word to Fell right away, tell him to expect a party promptly," He ordered and turned to Josie, "I want you to leave for Dyrrachium at first light with a small guard. Travel with great haste."

"What's going on?"

Her father smiled for the first time since the war started.

"We have captured Klaus' daughter. Hope."

* * *

[i] The _consulship_ was the supreme magistracy of the Roman Republic. Two co-Consuls were elected by the people each year to serve as a check on each other. During the republican era, a Consul had to wait for ten years to seek the office again to ensure no one could attempt to establish a tyranny. It would be reduced to a mere title during the imperial era as the Emperor held absolute power, but the consulship remained enormously prestigious and was either claimed by the Emperor for themselves or bestowed on allies.

[ii] A Gallic tribe invaded Italy in 390BC, defeated a large Roman army, and sacked the city of Rome. It had a profound impact on the Roman psyche and the fear of their city being sacked again drove Roman expansionism – the idea that removing the city as far from the frontiers as possible was the only way to guarantee security. The Gauls became the Romans’ most feared enemies after this.

[iii] The Tarpeian Rock is a cliff overlooking the Forum – government buildings of the Roman Republic. Traitors were executed by being thrown off the cliff. All Roman citizens had the right to a trial before execution. It was one of the most ancient and sacrosanct rights under the Roman Republic, though summary executions were common during civil wars.

[iv] The _gladius_ was the devastating Spanish short sword used by the Roman legion. Itinspired widespread terror due to the gruesome injuries it inflicted.

[v] Soldiers would hail their general _Imperator_ on the battlefield after a splendid victory. It would become one of the many titles associated with the Emperor during the imperial era. The English word emperor is derived from _imperator._

[vi] Bithynia was a Hellenistic kingdom of Asia Minor. Historically, it was annexed by the Roman Republic thirty years before Caesar’s Civil War.

[vii] The _praetorian prefect_ was the commander of the praetorian cohorts. Historically, this office was not created until the imperial era. Praetorian prefects were often second only to the Emperor in authority and in a prime position to attempt usurpation. The praetorian cohorts, contemporarily known as the praetorian guard, was the Emperor's bodyguard and secret police. They were the only ones allowed to carry weapons in the city of Rome, and often became corrupt and disloyal. Many Emperors were assassinated by their praetorians. Generals during the republican era often kept a small elite force as bodyguards and reserves, who can be considered precursors to the praetorian cohorts.

[viii] _Res publica_ was the term Romans used to refer to the Roman state, its affairs, and institutions during the republican era. The English word republic is derived from _res publica._

[ix] _Oriental_ was a derogatory term the Romans used to describe peoples of the East, especially Greeks and Persians.

[x] An _agnomen_ was a name bestowed on a commander to celebrate a magnificent victory, a rare honor. The most famous example was Scipio Africanus, who earned the agnomen Africanus for defeating Carthage – an African power – in the Second Punic War.

[xi] _Praetors_ were Roman magistrates second only to the consuls. Propraetors were typically former praetors who were granted praetorian powers for a fixed amount of time by the Senate to either govern a province or command a legion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I've been reading Hosie fanfics like crazy since this quarantine started and figured I might as well write my own. I love Hosie and I love the Romans and this is the result.
> 
> This story is mainly told from Josie's perspective, though there will be many scenes in other characters' POVs. The first few chapters will focus on Hope and Josie, and the war will start playing a much more prominent role as the story progresses. Lizzie and Landon honestly just happened as I wrote the story.
> 
> I've taken a number of artistic liberties with history and I'll try to signpost them as we go along. I hope you've enjoyed this story so far. It'll mean the world to me if you leave a Kudo and/or a comment to let me know what you think. Constructive criticism and good old compliments are always welcomed!


	2. taken by the enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josie treats with Hope.

"Sir." Landon saluted, "We have retrieved the prisoner. We did not encounter any enemy scouts during our journey."

Alaric nodded, please. Landon was a trusted man of her father's who had been Josie's unofficial bodyguard for almost three years. Naturally, he had escorted her to Dyrrachium.

The war council was full. Josie sat on her father's right, facing Dorian. The legates of their six legions were all present, spreading across the military side of the table, while Donovan, Lockwood and a few other Senators sat on Josie's.

For once, morale was high.

"Propraetor Fell debriefed us, sir," Landon reported, unfazed by the tent's attention. "Klaus' fleet was transporting two legions from Italy. The renegade intended to land them behind our position, while he moved against us with his four other legions. He meant to force a decisive battle and strike us from both sides."

Josie inhaled sharply. If Klaus' plan had worked, their forces would have been routed, and she would be dead. Or worse - stories of how Klaus' legions murdered, raped, and pillaged their way across Gaul had traveled to Rome.

Her father must have the same thought, because he frowned and turned to Damon, his senior adviser also dubbing as spymaster. "Why did we hear nothing of this?"

"Our homeland has forsaken us." Damon sounded uncharacteristically somber, "Klaus' promise of land reform has proven popular among the Italian people. They clamor for his victory and refuse to spy for us. But now that the war has moved to Greece, we will have an easier time gathering information from the populace."

" _Greeks_ will support the _res publica_ but proper Romans will not?" Donovan, ever the idealist, was positively devastated. Lockwood, on the other hand, merely made an indignant noise and drank his wine.

Her father ignored the Senators and gestured at Landon to continue.

"Hope of the Mikaelsons has proved herself a cunning commander and evaded Fell's every attempt to force her into a decisive engagement. However, her fleet was caught by a storm a week ago. Most of her ships were lost, and the few that survived ran straight into our galleys. The eleventh and twelfth legions are no more. The eighth legion remains in Narbonensis under Klaus' brother Kol. And the thirteenth legion remains in Rome under Tristan de Martel. However, Fell believes that the renegade will not risk transport by sea again after losing a quarter of his ships."

The tent seemed to lighten up when they heard that Klaus had lost two legions. The officers exchanged restrained smiles while the Senators were grinning without restraint. Even Lockwood looked pleased. Josie was too - she didn't think they had received any good news at all since arriving in Greece. She let herself relax into the chair as the meeting continued.

"Thank you, centurion," Her father nodded. Landon saluted and made his way out the tent with a nod at Josie.

"My fellow Romans, Fortuna has finally smiled upon us,"[i] Her father spoke dramatically - not that Josie could blame him. "Klaus no longer holds a decisive advantage over us. However, he remains too strong to be challenged directly. Therefore, I will order Fell to move his fleet south and cut off the renegade's supply by sea. It will only be a matter of time before he is forced to send detachments to scavenge for supplies. We will attack these detachments and whittle down his numbers. We will continue to drill our men and let Klaus' morale wither away."

It was a sound strategy and the legates nodded in approval.

Donovan cleared his throat awkwardly. "If I may, Consul. I propose that everyone at camp make an offering to Neptune tonight as is proper after the God of the Seas and Storms did us a great favor."

"As is proper," Her father assented. "That will be all for the meeting. Josette, stay for a minute."

"Colleague," Lockwood acknowledge her father without scowling for once and walked past Josie to invite Damon for wine.

"What do you make of her?"

"Hope of the Mikaelsons?" Josie chuckled, her mind wandering to a flash of auburn, "She thought I was a priestess and that she was being executed. Though given the diatribes Lockwood launches at Klaus' followers daily, maybe it wasn't all that surprising."

"Yes, if only he would tune it down a notch or two," He sounded exasperated. "Fell said she's never lost a battle at sea?"

"And now her fate is out of her hands," Josie finished. "She must have been shocked by how abruptly the aura of invincibility vanished. Fell also said she was dehydrated and hallucinating when he fished her out of water. I tried to talk to her a few times during our journey back, but she didn't seem fully aware of what was going on."

"Hopefully, she's feeling herself now after a night of rest." Her father nodded then paused, "I didn't want to dampen the men's enthusiasm earlier. Jupiter knows we need more of that around here," Her father glanced around them to make sure they were alone, "But Klaus is far from defeated. He still has four legions of hardened veterans, while our men are green and frankly clueless about the trials and tribulations of war. Every one of his is worth at least two of ours. He will crush us all the same if he forces a battle-"

"-and the _res publica_ will be lost to tyranny." The realization hit her like a brick, and Josie felt childish for allowing herself to relax even for a few minutes.

"Aye. All Neptune bought us was a chance to catch our breath, nothing more." He affirmed solemnly, "That's why we must turn Hope to our cause. She's our best and possibly only chance at winning this war. But I know Klaus." Her father sounded regretful, "He has a way of _inspiring_ loyalty and she will not betray him easily."

"If anyone can sway her, it's you."

* * *

Hope's new cell was much bigger, Josie noted with satisfaction as she walked into the tent. The praetorian who let her in saluted and returned to his post wordlessly, leaving her alone with the auburn-haired woman.

They had been short on gold ever since the Senate left the treasury for Klaus to ransack in its haste to flee Italy. And hence, there was no luxury to speak of at their war camp, but Josie made sure Hope had whatever comfort they did have.

"I apologize that all we cannot provide you a proper mattress." Josie said to the young woman lying on the straw palliasse, her eyes closed and her dinner untouched, "My father was very insistent that there be no luxuries of any kind while we are at war. He also insisted that the Senatorial order should experience the same hardships as the soldiers."

It wasn't just the straw palliasse. The food was bland and the wine was bitter. Hope couldn't have been too happy about that, but Josie figured bland food was better than no food. Oh, how much she wished for a salad.

"Tanner must be thrilled," Hope sniggered.

"Senator Tanner knows better than to complain when the Consul himself eats the same food as the men."

"So it is true then," Hope looked at her lazily. "The people loved Alaric Saltzman so much that when he revolted against Rome, all of Spain[ii] and Africa[iii] followed him."

"It was Spain that revolted against Sulla's tyranny. The people called on my father to help liberate them, and he felt duty-bound to answer."

"How could I forget. Your family supported Marius during the last civil war. Mine sided with Sulla," Hope smirked, "Who actually won."[iv]

"It is unfortunate that we keep finding ourselves on opposite sides of wars," Josie replied calmly, "But it doesn't have to be that way anymore."

"I hope you did not come here to persuade me to betray my father," Hope sounded bored. "Because I will not betray him. So just swing the sword and save us both the trouble."

Josie chuckled. "Why do you keep thinking you are about to be executed?"

"Why do you keep making pointless small talk?" Hope shot back, "I will not betray my father."

_She certainly has no shortage of snark._

Josie considered Hope for a moment. She was small, tiny, even, with her frame curled up on the palliasse. Hope had long, fiery red hair and a pair of bright blue eyes shining with fierceness and defiance. Her features were smooth and pleasant to look at - Josie had heard stories about Hope's aunt, Rebekah's ethereal beauty - but those features were also hard, like a wall made of stone.

The Mikaelson clan were infamous for their hot temper and stubborn devotion to each other.

Hope, Josie decided, was definitely a Mikaelson.

"Alright then," Josie said. Hope seemed surprised.

"Since you are absolutely certain that you will not betray your father, it would be futile for me to try to change your mind."

Hope's room was bare other than a wooden chair and a small desk where she could read - Josie had meant to find a few volumes that Hope might enjoy so the auburn-haired woman would have something to occupy her time with. The brunette took the chair and placed it in front of the palliasse that Hope now sat on.

"Let us just talk."

"Why?" Hope looked at her suspiciously.

"There are not many women my age at camp other than my sister, so I could use some company. And I can say the same for you unless you would rather be stuck in this tent by yourself with no one to talk to for the rest of your time here?" Josie raised an eyebrow.

Hope looked bewildered at the sudden turn of events before shrugging, "I suppose it can't hurt to humor you. What do you even want to talk about? Boys? Girls? Both?"

"We could. But I would much rather talk about you."

"Oh?"

"You are remarkable, Hope of the Mikaelsons," Josie leaned forward. "You are the heiress to one of the most ancient and powerful families in Rome. And the first Roman woman in history to command any kind of army or fleet. You are also an enigma. Nobody seems to know anything about you other than what you want them to. You intrigue me."

"Says you," Hope met Josie's eyes. "How many Consuls before your father do you think consulted a woman before making his every move? But beyond your reputation of wit and cunning, you are a complete mystery."

"All the more reason for us to get to know each other, don't you think?"

"If you say so."

"Very well, Lady Hope."

"If we are going to do this, then the first thing you should know about me is that I hate it when people call me Lady," Hope snickered. "Makes me feel old."

"What do you want to be called then?"

Hope pondered for a moment, "I am a Captain. It is what my sailors call me."

"Captain Hope it is," Josie smiled. It was only the first step, and a small one, but she was happy. Her father entrusted her with a critical mission, and she was making progress. But that wasn't the only reason. Josie wasn't lying when she told Hope she intrigued her.

Across her, Hope thought that maybe she had just found a way out of her prison.

* * *

[i] Fortuna was Roman Goddess of Fortune and the personification of luck, as well as the Goddess of Fate. Reimagined as Lady Fortune in Medieval Europe.

[ii] Refers to _Hispania,_ encompassing all of the Iberian peninsula, rather than only the territories of the modern-day Spanish state.

[iii] Refers to the Roman province of Africa anchored around the city of Carthage, roughly corresponding to a coastal strip running across modern-day Tunisia to Libya.

[iv] It was fought between the Generals Sulla and Marius, taking place roughly forty years before Caesar's Civil War. The date is pushed back by ten years for the purpose of this story. Loot from a war in the East guaranteed even ordinary soldiers a hefty sum of money and gave the commander enormous wealth, prestige, and political influence. Marius usurped an Eastern command from Sulla, and the latter marched on Rome with his soldiers who feared losing out on the loot. It was the first time a Roman general marched on his city with his legions and commonly thought as the beginning of the end for the Roman Republic in historiography. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trivia Time
> 
> The Romans divided Greece into three provinces - Epirus, Macedonia, and Achaea. Achaea covered the southern part of the peninsula and was one of the most prosperous parts of the early Empire. Governorship of the province was highly prestigious and sought after.


	3. how well do you wanna get to know me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope and Josie get to know each other better.

Josette returned the next day with a soldier in toll.

The legionnaire was young, perhaps as young as the brunette. His hair was dark and curly, and his eyes were green. The red of his cape indicated that he was an officer of the praetorian cohorts.

The praetorian walked past Josette and placed what looked like a bust on her small desk. Hope's curiosity was piqued.

"Thank you, Landon." Josette smiled at him, and Hope found it vaguely annoying for some reason.

"Of course, ma'am." The praetorian - Landon - saluted and left the tent without sparing a glance at Hope.

Not paying attention to Josette yet, Hope walked to her desk and examined the bust. She was surprised to discover that it was a sculpture of the sun god.

"Apollo, right?"

Hope turned to the brunette, gratitude swelling in her chest. Only then did she notice that Josette was carrying a few volumes in her arms. Josette's eyes followed Hope's and grinned when she realized what Hope was looking at.

"I thought that I would bring you something to read since there is not much for you to do in your tent."

"My cell, you mean?"

Josette had the decency to look somewhat abashed. She cleared her throat and made her way over, setting the texts down for Hope to examine.

"Annales,[i] Atreus...[ii] _The Civil Wars by Alaric Saltzman Hispanianus?_ " Hope blinked. She hadn't expected that. "Does your father know you are giving out state secrets to the enemy?"

"Those are hardly state secrets, Captain Hope." Josette laughed, "My father decided to write about his time in Africa and Spain after retiring from public life. It was only published a few years ago when you had already left for Gaul. I was not sure what kind of reading material you would enjoy, but I supposed it would be a safe bet since you are a commander yourself."

Hope could not fault her reasoning. She hummed and reached for the last book, " _Liberty's Rebels?_ I do not think I have ever heard of it."

"I would be surprised if you have," Josette sounded almost sheepish. "It is not published yet."

"Then how did you come by it?"

"Oh. Well, I wrote it. Kind of." Josette bit her bottom lip - adorably, Hope thought absentmindedly. "I was younger then. It was before my father started sending me on envoys. I wrote a few scenes for a play about the revolution and the legend of Lucretia to pass the time.[iii] Anonymously, of course. It was surprisingly well-received, and I thought I should write some more in prose and novelize it. My sister helped - her flair for drama came in surprisingly handy," Josette chuckled. "The title is not finalized yet, so I'm open to suggestions."

A smile stretched out across Hope's lips unknowingly.

"Thank you, Lady Josette." She didn't have to fake her genuineness.

Josette waved her off, "There is no need to thank me, Captain Hope. Though I am afraid these are the only privileges my father allows at camp." She gestured at the small furniture and the books she just brought in.

"Even for you and your sister?"

"Especially for me and my sister," Josette replied.

Now that was surprising. Hope thought about the stories her uncle Kol told her about his war camps in Gaul - beds that were almost comfortable; a seemingly endless supply of Italian wine; Gallic delicacies purchased from the locals. Perhaps the Spanish campaign had instilled a lifelong habit of frugality in Saltzman Hispanianus, or perhaps her uncle had simply refused to part ways with comfort even at war.

"My father has an aversion to nepotism. He once flogged a legate who replaced all his officers with friends and relatives. But if there is anything else I can do to make you more comfortable, I am sure I can make it happen."

Hope plopped on her palliasse, and Josette made herself comfortable on the chair.

"You have done more than enough, Lady Josette. In fact, how can I repay you?" Hope hesitated, "As long as it does not involve betraying my father."

"I will not ask you to betray your father, Captain Hope, only that we get to know each other like we already agreed to."

"A Mikaelson always keeps her word," Hope vowed solemnly, Elijah's lectures about honor and virtue ringing in her ears. "Ask anything you wish to know."

Josette looked like she already had a list of questions prepared and memorized.

"What is your favorite food?"

Hope pondered. "I love beignets," The thought brought a fond smile to her face, "It's this Gallic pastry that I came across at a market in Narbonense. Sweet without being sickly when it's warm and fresh." Something in her brain tugged at her - a distant, almost blurry memory, "Though I will always have a soft spot for venison. My family used to build a campfire at our villa in Campania. We'd write down our wishes on small pieces of parchment and throw them in the fire. Then we'd roast whatever game my father and uncles caught. Venison was my favorite. The meat on the legs tasted the best."

Hope met Josette's eyes, and the brunette looked at her so softly that Hope's breath caught in her throat, if only for a second.

Her heart pounded.

"It sounds like you and your family are close," Josette said.

"We ar-" Imagines flashed before Hope's eyes - Finn's body soaked in blood; a livid Elijah screaming at her father; Kol's face stained with silent tears - she looked away from Josette and scoffed at herself. This was not the time for sentimentality. "We _were._ Anyways, I believe it is only fair if you answer a question of my own."

Josette assented.

"That praetorian you were with earlier," Hope asked, her heart was pounding but her voice was carefully even, "You two seemed awfully familiar."

"Landon?" Josette sounded amused, "Nothing scandalous, I assure you." A muscle in Hope's throat that had tensed at some point relaxed again. "I was leading an envoy to Athens three years ago. Landon was part of the guard. We were attacked by pirates and he fought them off, saved my life. When we returned, my father wrote to Landon's superior and had him promoted to centurion. He's been my and my sister's unofficial bodyguard ever since."

"Athens, you say?" Hope's eyes shined, "I've only ever been to Sicily and Gaul, but I've always wanted to see Greece.[iv] Well, I suppose I have now. Though I thought the view would be more alluring," Hope joked at her own expense, her eyes glancing around the tent before finding Josette's warm brown orbs again, "Will you tell me more?"

"It was everything they say and more. Statues made of marble, the Parthenon on the hills, markets by the docks, ships carrying goods from all across the _Mare Nostrum,_ people coming and going, philosophers and merchants and artists. It was where I picked up the _pandoura,_ actually."[v]

"You play an instrument? You are a woman of many talents, aren't you Lady Josette?"

"I would not call myself a musician, but I do enjoy singing, and I play the _pandoura_ whenever I get the chance," Josette tucked a strand of stray hair behind her ear, and Hope felt a sudden urge to run her hand through those brown curls.

_Focus Hope!_

"I have never seen a performance with that instrument," She confessed.

"We will have to rectify that," Josette smiled. "Now, a serious question. Do you enjoy chariot racing?"

"What kind of Roman would I be if I did not?" Hope grinned, touching her hair absentmindedly as the memory surfaced, "Reds, of course. Kol took me to my first race in the Circus when I was six, I found it quite thrilling. Although Rebekah was hoping I would be a Blue supporter like her."

* * *

Josie steered clear of the topic of Hope's family for the remainder of the afternoon. The brunette was far too astute not to notice how rigid Hope became when she made the observation that the Mikaelson clan seemed close. She changed tactics and eased the auburn-haired woman back into their conversation by keeping it mundane and free of any mention of the war.

Josie made the decision to open herself up to Hope first, figuring that it'd be easier to earn the auburn-haired woman's trust that way. Sharing her own writing with Hope was a calculated risk, and it paid off. By the time she left, Josie had learned that Hope was an avid horse rider. Hope, to her surprise, was an artist as well. She loved to paint. One of her fondest childhood memories was the afternoon she spent painting with her father in Campania. Hope also liked poetry - her favorite being an epic about Aeneas and the founding of Rome. And she told Josie the story of seeing the Hellenic Temple of Apollo in Syracuse with a childlike wonder that reminded her just how young the other woman was.[vi]

"It's the reason I want to see Greece so much," Hope confessed, "Syracuse is more magnificent than any Latin city of Italy. And I'd like to see all the marvel Greece has to offer. "

Josie, with a small laugh, had said that it didn't get much better than Syracuse. It was just as beautiful, if not more so than Athens and Alexandria.[vii]

"Right, I know that," Hope explained, "But still. I'd like to see the birthplace of Greek civilization since we owe much of our own civilization to it."

Hope was starting to open up to her. Josie was still a long way from swaying her allegiance, but she was in no rush. In her experience, patience was a diplomat's best tool.

Truth to be told, Josie had half-expected Hope to shoot her down right out of the gate. She had been prepared to visit the auburn-haired woman every day and wear her down with persistence and acts of kindness. Josie pondered for a moment. She didn't have any friends at camp, not really - she supposed Landon was _kind of_ her friend, but he will always be her bodyguard first and foremost. At least she had Lizzie, Hope probably didn't have anyone she was close to at sea.

_"There aren't many women my age at camp other than my sister, so I could use some company. And I can say the same for you unless you'd rather be stuck in this tent by yourself with no one to talk to for the rest of your time here?"_

Josie had said it halt-jestingly. Perhaps it held more truth than she initially thought. After all, solitude was bound to wear anyone down.

Even a Mikaelson.

* * *

Josie's meeting with her father went on longer than she expected. Her father was disapproving, but Josie fought him tenaciously and refused to give up. He agreed to compromise with a sigh.

She had planned on visiting Hope that afternoon, but it was almost nightfall by the time Josie left her father's tent. She figured she might as well dine with Hope that night and asked Landon to bring an extra plate from the kitchen.

Hope was lying on her palliasse, a book in her hands when the brunette walked in. It had been a few days since she dropped the books off and Hope must have made quite some progress already. Landon put Hope's serving down and left with a salute. Hope spoke as Josie placed her plate next to the auburn-haired woman's and made herself comfortable on the floor.

_"Richard Lockwood was by far the most vehement voice calling for my head. One would think him a devotee of Sulla's, but Lockwood had called him a tyrant to his face and said that he would kill him if he could. Rather, Lockwood suspected that I intended to declare secession and proclaim myself king in Spain - an entirely absurd notion to anyone possessing an ounce of reason. Whether out of delusion or paranoia, Lockwood denounced me as a traitor and branded anyone advocating for negotiations a collaborator. Was he simply too blinded by self-righteousness to see that we were fighting for the same cause, one that would have been far better served if he directed his vexations at real, rather than imagined, enemies?"_

"Lockwood must have accepted your father's criticism with great humility."

"Absolutely." Josie laughed, picturing the Consul's red face, "He most definitely did not write a scathing rebuke and read it aloud in the Senate. Or call his colleagues cravens for signing the peace treaty. Or demand my father's execution."

"Just how in Pluto's name did they become co-Consuls?" Hope joined Josie on the floor and reached for a piece of bread.

"It was chaos after your father crossed the Rubicon. Lockwood demanded the Senate defend Rome," Josie sipped her soup, unsurprised by the sour taste. "He was outvoted, and the Senate fled south to Brunsidium. They had hoped to sail for Greece there, but the 13th legion advanced much more quickly than anybody anticipated. You already know all this, of course."

Hope hummed, and chewed on her bread - Josie hoped it wasn't as stale as hers, but that seemed unlikely.

"Many panicked and openly talked of surrender," Josie continued, "Lockwood rallied two legions in the south and held off your father's men long enough for them to escape. When they arrived in Greece, the Senate decided that he should lead the war effort from that point on, but Lockwood knew he was no commander."

Hope seemed immersed in the story, her bread forgotten. Josie nibbled on a strip of jerky. It was dry and flavorless, "He needed an army and fast. His best bet was the five legions in Spain, but they would only fight for my father. So Lockwood offered him command of the war."

"But those legions are long gone," Hope said.

_Destroyed by your father._

"That's true," She replied in an even tone, forcing the bitterness back down her throat, "But the Senators were scared, and they wanted an experienced commander. Lockwood realized he wasn't going to find another General who could put their minds at ease and prevent desertions _en mass._ At the same time, my father recognized that Lockwood was committed to fighting Klaus tooth and nail, unlike many others. So they reconciled - as much as two people with their history could, I suppose - and here we are."

Hope elected to ignore the rest of her food and go straight for the wine. The auburn-haired woman made a face at the taste, pressing her legs against her chest and Josie couldn't help but chuckle at how small Hope looked.

Somebody shouted outside the tent.

"What was that?" Hope set her goblet back down, her blue eyes alert.

They heard more shouting, and Josie thought it was probably just drunken soldiers fighting. She told Hope as much, though the auburn-haired woman was less certain.

"I thought your father didn't allow fighting?"

"Discipline is bound to slip every now and then," Josie got on her feet, "But I better see what's going on anyway just in case."

* * *

A man in his twenties was laughing, a crossbow in one hand, and a flagon in another.

"Look what my friends and I have hunted!" The young man - wearing a bronze chest plate over his toga - shouted, "Pidgeon, deer and a fucking boar! Maybe we'll have a decent meal for once."

An officer - Dorian - marched to the small group and seized the ringleader by his collar, his red cape swirling, "Control yourself, you drunken fool!"

"Don't touch me!" The young man slurred in a way that was vaguely familiar and pushed Dorian off him. Dorian, surprisingly, let it slide.

_Of course. Who else could it be but Tyler Fucking Lockwood._

"Hunting is forbidden," Dorian glared daggers at him.

"Not for me." Tyler Lockwood said nonchalantly and took a swig from the flagon.

"To think you are the offspring of one of the most distinguished Romans," Dorian shook his head in disgust, "If you were a man of the legion, I'd flog you until every inch of your back is bloody." He tore the flagon from Tyler's grasp, "Then I'd fill a bath with every drop of wine I can find and drown you in it."

"Good luck explaining that to my father!" Tyler laughed, "Let loose a little, old man! We've done nothing but drill ever since we came to Greece. We deserve to have some fun."

Josie saw Dorian's muscles clenching. He must be itching to reach for his _gladius,_ she thought, and was about to intervene when someone else beat her to it.

"Sir," Jeremy announced his presence.

"Jere! Man, how are you?" Tyler swayed drunkenly, but the praetorian prefect ignored him.

"The General has the legal authority to forbid even those not under his direct command from hunting. But that may cause disquiet among our Italian men. I could take a few praetorians and accompany them next time, make sure they don't stray too far from camp."

Dorian backed away from Tyler with what looked like the utmost reluctance, "Fine." He agreed unhappily and thrust the flagon at Jeremy, "Take this _thing_ off my hands." One last glare at the younger Lockwood, "And get this fucking moron out of my sight!"

Tyler laughed and grabbed for the flagon, but Jeremy spun around and jabbed a finger at Tyler's chest, "Get a grip on yourself! You embarrass me, man."

Tyler didn't seem too bothered by that.

"Why don't you go back to your tent?" Jeremy took a deep breath to compose himself, "I'll get the game to the cooks."

Tyler acquiesced, and Jeremy sighed when the younger Lockwood was too far away to hear him. "Why does he always have to be a dick?"

Josie decided to make her approach.

"Let me get that thing off your hands, prefect Gilbert."

The praetorian prefect grinned when he realized who it was.

"Josie!" Jeremy exclaimed happily, "You never visit anymore." Pause, "And yes, please get it off my hands. By the Gods, I miss that fine Spanish wine Alaric used to let us have when we were younger."

Josie accepted the flagon and returned a grin of her own, "Don't remind me, this wine is dreadful. And I'm sorry, I've been busy. How's Anna?"

"She's good." Jeremy smiled, "She complains about the nausea and the backache in her letters, but the baby will be here soon. I think she's enjoying Carthage's culture.[viii] She's always found Italy a bit barren - her words, not mine." That brought a smile to Josie's face too, "I hear you just returned from Sicily last week?"

"Aye." She nodded, "Finally some good news from the West. Sicily remains loyal to the _res publica._ The island's grains will continue to feed us as long as we control the seas."

"And Klaus' daughter?"

"I'm working on it." Josie replied, "Actually, there's something I was hoping you could help me with."

* * *

Hope was about to ask her guards what was happening outside when Josette returned.

"I come bearing gifts." The brunette announced, holding up a flagon.

"A whole flagon just for me?" Hope raised an eyebrow, "What's this? A sendoff before my execution?"

"Must you be so morbid all the time, Captain Hope?" Josette laughed prettily and sat across her, filling their goblets. Her chest warmed.

"If only we could get a nice bonfire going," Hope said half-jokingly, half-wistfully, "We could sit around it, drink this foul wine, and exchange stories."

"And throw parchments written with our wishes in the fire?"

"Why not," Hope swallowed the wine and her face scrunched in disgust. She was sure the Gauls could make a less objectionable wine and the Gauls didn't even know how to make wine.

"You will not mind the taste once you are inebriated."

"I do hope so, Lady Josette," Hope muttered, unconvinced, and suddenly an idea struck her. The auburn-haired woman leaped onto her feet and made for her desk. She returned moments later and plopped the bust of Apollo down between them, "There." Hope grinned, her eyes blue and shining.

"I... don't follow?" Josette's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"It's not exactly a bonfire," She explained, "But a bust of the God of the Sun and Truth will have to do. Now, we can exchange stories."

"Very well then," Josette bit her bottom lip in a way that had Hope's stomach fluttering. Hope gulped down more of the foul wine. "There was this one time when I-" The brunette threw back her goblet, "Well, there was this girl. She was radiant. And I was young - too young to know how to act around a beautiful girl without embarrassing myself. So I wrote her a love poem and slipped it in her courtyard."

"That's it?"

Josette poured herself more wine, "Oh, how much I wish that was true. No, fourteen-year-old Josie regretted it immediately. But she couldn't get back in by then. So she threw a torch into the villa. She was really only aiming for the letter but ended up burning half the yard down. To this day, they still don't know it was me who started the fire."

Hope laughed until she was gasping for her breath.

"Josette of the Saltzmans. Diplomat. Playwright. Musician. _And pyro!_ Who'd have thought?"

Josette found herself laughing as well.

"You'd better have a good story to tell, Captain Hope."

Hope's eyes glinted, "Let me tell you about that time my father _persuaded_ a boy I brought home to the priesthood."

* * *

[i] _Annales_ was a Latin epic poem telling early Roman history.

[ii] _Atreus_ was the Latin translation of a Greek tragic poem.

[iii] The overthrow of the Roman monarchy and the establishment of the Republic. The last Roman king – Lucius Tarquinius Superbus – was a tyrant. When Tarquinius was away on campaign, his son raped a noblewoman Lucretia, who then told her father and a number of leading citizens what happened, called on them to avenge her and killed herself. The nobility rose up and overthrew the monarchy with the support of the army, vowing that never again will Rome be ruled by the whims of a tyrant, but by magistrates elected by the people and laws made with their consent. The king’s subsequent attempts to regain the throne were foiled.

[iv] Sicily was the first Roman overseas province. The island was considered part of Italy for all intents and purposes, but was never formally incorporated into Italy proper by the Romans.

[v] The _pandoura_ was a Greek string instrument.

[vi] Syracuse was founded as a Greek colony and retained its Hellenic culture throughout Roman rule. It was a preeminent Greek city of the period.

[vii] Alexandria was founded by Alexander of Macedonia. It was the capital of the Hellenistic Ptolemaic kingdom of Egypt and one of the greatest cities of the Hellenistic world.

[viii] The city of Carthage was sacked by the Romans a century before Caesar’s Civil War. Historically, it was not re-established as a Roman settlement until the imperial era, and became by far the wealthiest part of the Roman West due to its highly fertile soil and the advancement of commerce.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trivia Time
> 
> Quintus Sertorius was a Roman General. He fought for Marius during the civil war and was forced to flee to Africa, where he was called upon by the Spanish people to free them from their tyrannical governor. He rallied both the Romans who had followed him and Spanish provincials and fought a highly successful guerilla war against the Senate's forces. Though he was heavily outnumbered, he was never defeated on the battlefield, and was betrayed and murdered by his lieutenant, who was promptly crushed in battle.


	4. under the eyes of apollo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lizzie embarks on a new endeavor; Josie spends more time with Hope.

"This is a _gladius,_ " Jeremy explained as he picked the blade up from the wall, "It's short but heavy. You stab with it rather than slash. One powerful thrust can tear a limb off. Perfect for fighting in formation, which isn't what we want here."

Lizzie followed him around the massive tent, "And that?" She pointed.

"A _spatha._ Longer blade, well-suited for horses and skirmishers. But you might find it a bit unwieldy," Jeremy answered, then pointed to another object on the table. "That is a _pilum_ \- more of a javelin than a spear. One good throw can pierce a shield. But it's quite heavy, and not very versatile."

"What about a bow?" Lizzie gestured at another section of the wall.

"An elegant weapon." Jeremy nodded, "Relies more on skill than strength. A lot more suitable for you to learn to fight with than a _gladius._ But it won't be much help to you if you are caught in close range."

"Great," Lizzie huffed, feeling dejected.

"Don't lose heart yet, kid," Jeremy laughed, "I have just the thing for you."

The praetorian prefect unmounted a strange-looking crossbow from the display and motioned for Lizzie to follow, "Come."

"This is a special crossbow, you see," Jeremy explained as they made their way around camp. "It's not Roman. Or Greek, for that matter. It originated in the East. I've collected all kinds of strange objects and machines for Alaric to study. Anna was the one who found this, actually, when we were in Egypt."

"How far east? India?"

"Even farther."

The blonde blinked, "What's east of India?" _Isn't it just ocean? **[i]**_

"According to Anna, a kingdom aflush with untold riches - gold, silk, art, music. Apparently, it was where her grandmother came from."[ii]

"I've heard about it, I think," Lizzie recalled, "From an Arabian merchant who'd been to India. People told stories about a faraway kingdom just like that - where gold flew like rivers and people spoke like poetry. But I thought it was nothing but legend."

"Legend or not, Anna and I are going to take a ship and sail east - as far east as the seas will take us." Jeremy grinned, his eyes glinting with a mischievous light all too familiar to her. "Once the war is over, and the baby is older."

The duo walked pass soldiers milling about, exercising and grinding their _gladii._ They took a turn around a row of tents and reached an archery range with a stuffed dummy at the end.

"Watch," Jeremy smirked, raised the crossbow, took aim, and fired.

Much to Lizzie's shock, ten bolts struck the dummy in less than half a minute without Jeremy stopping to draw back the string or loading new bolts even once.

"Wow." Was all Lizzie could muster.

"All you have to do is pull the trigger and load the magazine when it's empty," Jeremy explained, "The mechanism does everything else for you."

"How come this isn't issued to the legion?" She asked, still stunned.

"Our standard issue _manuballista_ packs a lot more punch, more practical for combat,"[iii] He answered, glancing at the dummy. The first three bolts had struck it dead center, then they started veering off. The last few barely caught it.

"But I figured it'd be the perfect weapon for self-defense. What do you say, kid? Wanna learn how to use it?"

Lizzie beamed.

* * *

Josette was grinning when she came to see Hope the next day.

"Come on, Captain Hope." The brunette gestured at the entrance happily, "You are on furlough today."

Hope blinked. She couldn't remember the last time she had seen the sky - while she was taken from the Fell's ship to Saltzman Hispanianus' camp, certainly, but she had been too disoriented still for much of the trip. By the time she had her wits about again, she had found herself staring at the ceiling of her new cell.

She tried to remember what happened before she was taken prisoner by Fell. Panicking sailors. Dark clouds. Angry thunders. The storm mauling her ship.

She wondered how many of her crew had survived, and how well they were being treated by Fell. Her chest tightened when she recalled Logan Fell's reputation of savagery.

"You coming?"

Hope shook herself out of her thoughts and tried not to appear too eager. She ended up almost bouncing to where Josette was waiting. The brunette gave her an amused look and pushed the flaps open.

A dozen praetorians on horseback were waiting for them outside, armed with _pila, spathas_ and bows. Hope looked at them warily, but Josette didn't seem to notice Hope's apprehension and mounted her horse.

Landon led a horse to the auburn-haired woman and offered to help her on it. Hope declined, naturally, and rode by Josette's side as they set off.

"Took me all day yesterday, but I convinced my father to let you outside," Josette said proudly, then pausing. "I'm sorry about all the guards," She gestured behind them apologetically, "They are just here as a precaution, really. I told him that it's not necessary, even promised him I'd take Landon with us, but he wouldn't budge."

The praetorian trailed them by a few meters, just enough that they'd have some privacy. Josette tried to play it down, but Hope knew full well that the second she tried to escape, a dozen arrows would bury themselves in her back.

Still, Hope couldn't really complain. If Saltzman Hispanianus was her prisoner, the auburn-haired woman doubted she'd let him outside his cell at all, much less on horseback. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the warmth on her skin as she soaked in the sunlight.

Hope wasn't exactly sure where in Greece they were - she assumed it was somewhere in Epirus or Macedonia, given how little time the journey to Dyrrhachium took. The auburn-haired woman expected the weather to be rather dreary, as it was autumn already. But it was warm and pleasant, and for once, Hope was happy to be wrong.

Josette stopped in front of a large, enclosed field - it was of dirt, but looked reasonably well maintained - and turned to Hope with a soft smile.

"You told me how much you love horse-riding. I thought it had to be a while since you've done it now, and you must miss it," Josette explained, "The soldiers exercise their horses here. I know it probably doesn't compare to what you are used to, but you can ride for a bit. I made sure you'll have the field to yourself for an hour."

"I-" Warmth spread across Hope's chest and she was certain it wasn't from the sun. Her first reaction was that of disbelief. Then excitement overcame her, and she felt like a girl learning to ride a horse for the first time again. "I thank you," Hope bid Josette a quick goodbye, her heart thumping, and leapt onto the track.

She let herself forget that she had lost her freedom, that she was now a prisoner who might lose her head at any time and urged her steed forward, faster and faster until all she could feel was the wind on her face.

When the hour was over, Hope felt happy and light.

The auburn-haired woman voiced her gratitude and they set off again. Hope was all the happier when she realized that they weren't heading in the direction of her cell-tent.

Josette pulled over in front of a small bush and dismounted.

"This is the only scenery to speak of at camp," said the brunette. "It's not much. But I figured it beats the tent."

"Thank you, Lady Josette," Hope didn't have to fake her gratitude, "This is more than enough."

Hope handed the reigns to one of the nameless praetorians and followed Josette. There was an open space in the bush - small, but large enough for two people to sit, if a little cozily. Still, if her knees accidentally brushed against Josette's, Hope did not complain.

Landon placed a basket between them, "We will be right outside, ma'am," The praetorian saluted to Josette and promptly left, ignoring Hope.

"I figured two ladies should be able to have a nice picnic without a dozen soldiers hovering over them," Josette tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"No, just with a dozen soldiers staring at them creepily from a distance," Hope laughed, then her expression turned serious, "I owe you for this, Lady Josette."

"It's only a picnic, Captain Hope." Josette waved it off, but Hope wouldn't have it - she wanted to the brunette to know the depth of her gratitude, and took Josette's hands into her own, her face set.

"You have shown me so much kindness since we met, Lady Josette," Hope spoke softly.

_Even if you are only doing it to turn me against my father._

"More kindness than you had to show an enemy, and certainly more than I would have if our positions were reversed. I owe you."

Hope poured as much sincerity as she could muster into her words, and Josette looked surprised by it.

"We are _not_ enemies, Captain Hope." Josette squeezed Hope's hands, "Our fathers lead opposite sides of the war, yes. But I have never thought of you as an enemy or wished you ill. Nor will I ever. And I hope that you haven't either. And we will never _have_ to be enemies. I promise you that."

_I really hope she's right._

"And you may think that you wouldn't have shown me as much kindness as I've shown you if our positions were reversed, Captain Hope, but I already know you well enough to know that you would have. You have no malice in your heart, Hope of the Mikaelsons, even if you want people to think otherwise."

Hope felt wetness surging in her eyes.

"La- May I call you Josette?"

"No."

Hope's heart throbbed painfully.

"You may call me Josie."

Josette-Josie grinned at her and Hope couldn't help but smile.

"Then you must call me Hope."

"As you wish, Hope."

Hope only then realized that their hands were still touching. In fact, their hands had become intertwined without either of them noticing. Fighting back a blush, Hope subtly removed her hands from Josie's and reached for the basket.

"I hope you convinced your father to give us some decent food too," Hope joked, but Josie seemed excited.

"Actually," Josie beamed as Hope removed the cover from the basket, "Tyler Lockwood snuck out and hunted some game yesterday. I pulled rank on the cooks and got us a plate."

True to Josie's word, a robust aroma invaded Hope's nostrils as she pulled the plate out, and the auburn-haired woman almost did a double-take. There was no mistaking what it was.

"You got us roasted venison?"

"Legs, of course," Josie grinned and leaned in to whisper conspiringly, "But don't tell Landon. He'll be incensed that I didn't save any for him."

The warmth of Josie's breath tingled on Hope's cheek and her stomach did a little dance.

"This is my last meal, right?"

Josie laughed.

"I'm afraid it's the same wine as yesterday," The brunette was apologetic but Hope didn't care. Nothing could ruin her mood, not even that ghastly wine.

* * *

"Fuck!" Josie uttered under her breath. This was not part of the plan.

Sympathizing with Hope wasn't a problem. Diplomacy meant getting to know the people you were treating with, so you could understand how they looked at the world and what motivated them. Otherwise, it'd be impossible to anticipate their next moves or find common ground. Some degree of sympathy was necessary.

When Hope thanked her with a tenderness in her eyes that was decidedly not-Hope-like, all Josie felt was guilt. And that was a red flag. Guilt was a distraction - no, a hindrance. The _res publica_ came first. Rome came first. The mission came first. And the mission demanded that she get close to Hope, earn Hope's confidence, and turn Hope against her father.

Hope's feelings were not supposed to be a factor.

Hope's feelings could not be a factor.

Hope's feelings _must_ not be a factor.

Neither was the softness of Hope's voice.

Or the sparkling blue of her eyes.

Or the fiery red of her hair.

Or the fact that she dreamed of traveling across Greece on horseback.

Or that she lost her mother when she was eight.

Or that she loved to paint.

Josie was a Roman. And a Roman _always_ put duty first.

Nothing else mattered.

Josie could not let Hope's feelings get in the way of her mission.

Or her own.

Maybe Josie could allow herself a genuine friendship with Hope - as genuine as it could be - but she was, first and foremost, using Hope for ulterior motives.

It didn't matter that it wasn't the only reason she spent time with Hope anymore, or that she had come to care for her. She was manipulating Hope, plain and simple. And she didn't want to anymore.

She wanted to forget about the mission, forget about the war, forget about the _res publica_ and just be Hope's friend. She wanted to talk to Hope about everything and nothing until the day had faded into dusk and the night had given way to daylight again.

And maybe one day she will be able to. Maybe one day she will be able to show Hope Athens and Alexandria and Antioch and all the beauty in the world.[iv] But not right now. Right now, Hope was her mission, and she would do whatever it took to complete her mission.

Even if it meant manipulating Hope. Even if it meant hurting Hope. Even if hurting Hope also meant hurting herself.

* * *

Lizzie was panting when Josie found her.

"Urgh!" She grunted and thrust her dagger at Jeremy, who parried it with ease, and disarmed her with a flick of his wrist.

"You are improving," He said with approval.

"Doesn't feel like it," Lizzie muttered, bending over to catch her breath.

"Patient, Lizzie," Jeremy chuckled, "You'd be surprised by how long it takes for most people to get the hang of it."

"That's doing heaps for my confidence."

"You know what I mean, kid. You are picking this up remarkably quickly, considering how much skill a dagger demands of its wielder."

"I don't know if that's meant to be encouraging," Lizzie glared, "But it's not. You make a terrible motivational speaker, Gilbert."

"Whatever, Saltzman." Jeremy rolled his eyes, all too familiar with the blonde's antics.

Lizzie made to retort, but she saw her twin and her eyes glinted.

"I see you were serious about learning to fight."

"We can't have only one Saltzman twin kicking ass around here," Lizzie grinned cheekily, "Look what I've learned!" The blonde grabbed her crossbow, aimed carefully and pulled the trigger. Two bolts sunk themselves in the dummy and Lizzie let out a small squeal excitedly.

"That's an impressive piece of machinery," Josie hummed, intrigued, "Does it have a name?"

"Repeating crossbow?"[v]

"Wow," Lizzie gasped dramatically, "That's _so_ original."

"Do you have a better idea?"

"Hmm, how about... _furore vulcani?"_

"Vulcan's fury? Dramatic as ever, kid."

"Shut up," Lizzie rolled her eyes and swatted Jeremy in the arm.

"Well, I'm glad we got to spend some time together, but I must leave you now."

"Another errand for my father?"

"If only." Jeremy sighed, "Tyler had fun hunting yesterday - so much fun that he just _has_ to make it a weekly thing from now on. That spoiled brat. I must gather a few of my best men and make preparations." He turned to Josie, "It's good to see you too, kid. And that thing you asked for is waiting for you in your tent."

Jeremy left promptly, his red cape swirling. Lizzie turned to her sister.

"How was the picnic?"

"It was alright," Josie replied and changed the topic quickly. "What do you say we head back to your tent and I tell you all about what happened when I was in Messene?"

The distraction worked. Lizzie forgot all about Josie's picnic with Hope and took her twin's arm with a grin.

An afternoon catching up with her sister was exactly what Josie needed to take her mind off Hope.

* * *

Hope was reading again the next time Josie visited her.

_"I had one more legion in Spain than Metellus Pius, commander of the Sullan forces. However, six more legions were due to arrive from Italy in a week, while I had little hope of reinforcement. Therefore, I resolved to deal with Metellus before he had twice my numbers and sent a small force as bait. A competent commander would have seen through my ploy, but Metellus was arrogant and frankly unintelligent. He gave chase and marched right into my trap. My men smashed through his flanks and pummeled his center. Metellus himself was killed in the rout. That mistake cost the Sullans four legions and ensured a protracted war in Spain."_

"Your father did not hold back on Metellus Pius," Hope commented wryly, thoroughly entertained by Saltzman's dig, "Not that anybody did. My uncle Kol once called him an old woman."[vi]

The auburn-haired woman put the book down and noticed the crate Josie was carrying, "Please tell me you have more venison in there."

"I'm afraid not," Josie chuckled, "Though I did hear Tyler Lockwood is going hunting again soon. Perhaps if we are lucky."

The brunette placed the crate on the floor and beckoned Hope over, "Come take a look."

Hope did as she was told. The auburn-haired woman peeked into the crate, and her jaw promptly dropped.

"I got you some art supplies." Josie grinned, "Surprise?"

Hope dumbly said, "I thought your father didn't allow luxuries?"

"Most definitely not. But he does allow writing materials for letters and journal keeping and such," said Josie proudly, "It's perfectly reasonable to interpret that painting materials fall under that category."

Brush. Panel. Chunks of wood Hope assumed to be building blocks of an easel. And a small box. Hope carefully removed it from the crate and opened it, revealing an assortment of berries.[vii]

"Where did you even get all this?"

"Jeremy lent me a few brushes and the panel for you to paint on," Josie explained, then, at Hope's confused face, "Jeremy is the praetorian prefect. His parents died when he was young and my father took him under his wings. My sister and I have known him our whole lives. He's an artist himself."

"I was going to ask him for some paint too," The brunette continued bubbly, "But I thought I'd ask for some berries instead, and you can show me how to make paint! And my father agreed to let us have an easel if we build it ourselves, but honest work never hurt anybody, right?"

Hope thought she might burst into tears. That would have been very embarrassing and completely unacceptable. So she lunged at Josie and threw her arms around the brunette, which was only marginally less embarrassing. But Josie didn't seem to mind. In fact, the brunette hugged her back equally firmly.

"Thank you," She said, composing herself and stepping back from Josie.

The brunette only smiled at her. And that smile sent Hope's heart racing.

Across Hope, guilt churned at Josie's stomach.

* * *

[i] The Greeks and Romans of antiquity believed India was the end of the world, and that the world was surrounded by an endless ocean.

[ii] Rome and China traded with each other indirectly via Parthia/Persia and India, but only ever had a limited awareness of each other. Sea routes from Egypt to India via the Red Sea were lost after the Arab conquest of Egypt in the 7th century, but land trade continued via the Silk Road. Roman coins have been excavated in China.

[iii] The _manuballista_ was a proto-crossbow of Greek origin. The Roman legion used it as a siege engine.

[iv] Antioch was founded by one of Alexander’s generals. It was the capital of the Hellenistic Seleucid Empire and the greatest city of Roman Syria. It would become the most important military base of operations of the Roman East and be frequented by the Emperor after the 3rd century crisis due to its proximity to the Persian frontier.

[v] The actual name for the crossbow.

[vi] Metellus Pius was a commander of the Sertorian War. He was repeatedly bested by Sertorius, who called him “that old woman” to mock his lack of energy. Historically, he was not killed during the war.

[vii] Roman artists painted on wooden panels as well as walls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trivia Time
> 
> The pilum was designed to pierce shields. A Roman legionnaire would throw it at a charging enemy, and the enemy soldier would be forced to jettison their shield since the pilum was heavy and could not be easily removed, and become easy prey for the them.


	5. there is still a war going on outside this tent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war escalates, so does Josie's internal conflict.

_If I'm going to manipulate Hope, the least I can do is make her as happy as possible._

Josie repeated those words to herself like a mantra.

_When this war is over, I will come clean to her and beg for her forgiveness. And if I'm lucky enough, I'll get the chance to be her friend without the lies or the manipulation or the politics. Just the two of us._

Josie walked into the war tent and took her seat next to her father. He signaled Damon to begin.

"We have six legions and four praetorian cohorts, supported by 20 auxiliary cohorts, mostly Greek and Illyrian, giving us 42,000 men in total." Damon spoke, "Klaus still commands the loyalty of six legions, all served under him in Gaul. However, two of them are in the West and out of his reach. That leaves the renegade four legions in Greece, as well as two double-strength praetorian cohorts and a not insignificant number of auxiliaries from Gaul and Britannia, - some 30,000 men."[i]

"His fleet suffered heavy losses during the storm and the subsequent battle," Damon continued, "However, most of his war galleys survived. Therefore he remains formidable at sea, even though he can no longer challenge our mastery."

"As we can see, our advantage over Klaus, though significant, is far from decisive."

"We have taxed every coin and raised every legion there is out of Greece." Donovan sounded uneasy, the euphoria after Hope's capture long gone, "But there is much money and men in Italy still. We will be in trouble if the renegade receives reinforcement from the West."

"Klaus can raise as many legions as he wants in Italy," Her father was unbothered, "It will not do him any good if he cannot ship them to Greece."

"It is true that we can currently blockade the sea lanes, Consul. However, Klaus can easily build more ships in Italy while we have only limited means to do so in Sicily, and none at all in Greece," Donovan countered. "Furthermore, he has more than enough gold to buy his legions safe passage through Illyria if so he wished. It would be folly to assume that we can prevent Klaus' legions from finding their way to Greece forever."[ii]

"Not forever, colleague, merely long enough for our men to become ready for battle."

"And how long, I beg to ask, will it take before you deem it so?"

"Training cannot be rushed, colleague. Simply wishing it so will not make our men ready to fight."

"I am quite aware that I have not your expertise on military matters, Consul." Donovan was unfazed, "But things rarely go as planned in war, and Klaus may well force our hand. We should seize this opportunity before it slips away."

"Seize this opportunity? What will you have me do, march up to Klaus' camp and demand that he fight me?" Her father sounded tired. "Should I order the men shout insults about Klaus' manhood while I'm at it? Perhaps have a prostitute wear a mask of Klaus' face and have another man fuck him?"

Donovan flushed and shifted awkwardly.

"Such lewdness is beneath the dignity of the Senate of Rome, colleague!" Lockwood barked.

Her father muttered a quick apology, though he didn't seem overly sorry. The dreariness of these meetings must be grating on his nerves.

"But yes, I say that's exactly what we should do." Lockwood proclaimed, "Donovan is right. Klaus commands Italy and Gaul while we can only count Greece and a sliver of Illyria. A protracted war works in his favor. We must press home our advantage before he recovers."

"While I appreciate your sentiment, colleague, our men are simply not ready." Her father said for the hundredth time that afternoon with an edge in his voice.

"You are Saltzman Hispanianus! Surely you can pull one of the tactical tricks you did in Spain and negate Klaus' advantage?"

"I am a soldier, not a magician! I cannot simply snap my fingers and turn half his legions to dust," Her father finally snapped. "And had I picked fights I had no hopes of winning, _colleague,_ you would be calling Elijah Mikaelson _Hispanianus_ today. I will not send my men to their death."

"I must agree with Consul Lockwood." Damon interceded and Josie saw her father's jaw clench. Damon was her father's closest friend and most trusted adviser. His siding with Lockwood was not a good sign. "The odds remain stacked against us, yes, but they are the best they have been since we lost the Spanish legions, and they will only worsen as time goes on. A shroud of darkness has engulfed Italy. My spies have either become quiet or been killed. For all we know, Klaus could have raised another army in Italy already."

"Perhaps this discussion is premature," Josie suggested, remembering that her father had turned to Africa during the most desperate hours of the Spanish war. "Africa remains loyal and Klaus has no way of reaching it. Surely we can raise a few more legions of our own there?"

"I am afraid it would be unwise to leave Africa without its legions at the present moment," came Damon's grave voice. "Ptolemy of Egypt is at war with his sister, and Numidia has become hostile to Rome. Should turmoil find its way to Carthage, our supply of gold and grain will be at risk."[iii]

_And we will be finished._

"Sir, if I may." One of the legates spoke up, "The men are restless. They have done nothing but endure endless training and this rotten food since coming to Greece. And they have seen neither the gold nor the glory they were promised. It will not be long before they demand that we fight."

_Let them demand then,_ Josie could tell her father wanted to say, but he restrained himself. Her father took a long pause, his blue eyes scanning every face in the room, from his officers to the Senators. Finally, he spoke.

"Very well then," He looked at the legates, "Order the men to form up. We will offer Klaus battle."

* * *

Her father's purple consular cape danced in the wind as he strode out of his tent.

He led his forces outside camp, the centurions marching their columns into battle positions. Six legions occupied the hills that shielded their campsite from Klaus, and soon enough, Klaus' own legions marched outside and formed up opposite them.

Then he waited.

He did not charge and neither did Klaus. Their legions stood opposite each other and waited as the day turned to dusk, dusk turned to night and the men grew restless again. Then he marched them back to camp and watched as Klaus did the same.

He did it again the next day. And the day after.

On the fourth day, he gathered his six legates and asked them if the men still itched for battle - promising that if the answer was affirmative, he'd give the order to attack as soon as Klaus met them.

The answer was negative, and he dismissed his legates with orders to resume drilling.

When Josie told Hope about it, the auburn-haired woman just laughed.

"Of course he did." Hope sounded impressed, "He knew my father would not accept battle. He commands the high ground, you see, and from what I've seen a lot more horses. That puts my father at a great disadvantage - he'd still win, make no mistake, but he'd lose a lot of men - men he'll need to pacify Africa when the fighting here ends. Why do that when he can simply wait for reinforcement from Italy?"

_Rather brazen of you to assume your father will be the one standing when the fighting here ends._

"But what's the point of offering battle if he doesn't mean to fight?"

"Men are simple creatures," Hope answered with a roll of her eyes. "All they want is glory and loot. But as soon as they saw my father's legions, they'd remember that they barely know how to hold a _gladius,_ much less kill someone with it, while their enemies have been doing it for years. They'd settle down and return to training. Problem solved."

"Why does your father help mine keep up the ruse then? Would it not be better if he simply refused to meet him?"

"And be branded a coward by his own men? I think not. But your father didn't risk it either - he made sure to allow my father a small moral victory every day by withdrawing first. My father was not going to decline a chance to improve the men's morale after losing two legions."

"You must know that your father's reputation as a military genius is well-deserved?" The auburn-haired woman added.

"Is that why you find the book so interesting?" Josie pointed at the volume of _The Civil Wars_ on Hope's lap.

"Oh. Well, I never imagined the great Saltzman Hispanianus would be so humorous, or humble," Hope glanced at the book. "And truth be told, your father has many fascinating things to say. Take this passage about my uncle Elijah."

Hope cleared her throat and began reading.

_"Trevor Flaminius was my next opponent, and we fought several battles over the course of his command, always ending inconclusively. Two years after Trevor landed in Spain, Elijah Mikaelson was elected Consul and set off to reinforce him with seven fresh legions, leaving me no choice but to destroy Trevor's army before Elijah arrived. I forced a battle and routed Trevor's left flank, but he promptly repelled my horses with reserves and withdrew in good order. **[iv]** However, that rout cost him a legion, and his men mutinied and killed him. Although I cannot prove it, I am certain that Elijah arranged Trevor's murder. He promptly took command of Trevor's forces, giving him twelve legions as opposed to my six. I was now catastrophically outnumbered. Elijah was a scrupulous and ruthless commander, and I would not enjoy another victory so long as he remained in Spain."_

"I was not aware of your uncle's military exploits," Josie blinked.

"I'm not surprised," Hope sounded sad, "All people remember about him is the scandal."

Josie was too young to remember the scandal, but Jeremy had told her about it. A few years after Finn Mikaelson's murder, the rumor spread that Elijah's daughter had been fathered by another man - a Thracian mercenary, no less, and that the Mikaelson patriarch knew but chose to conceal it. Since a child could not inherit citizenship from their mother, only their father, Elijah's wife falsified a claim of citizenship by claiming Elijah was the child’s father - a crime punished by death, and Elijah willfully abetted it by not revealing the truth. Disgraced and threatened with prosecution, Elijah and his family left Rome and no one had heard from them since.

"He wasn't a bad uncle, you know," Hope had a distant look on her face. "A bit stand-offish, not nearly as affectionate as Kol or Rebekah. But he taught me how to ride a horse. And he loved his wife and daughter dearly. Katerina used to braid our hair while Nadia and I played."

"I'm sorry," Josie reached for Hope's hand and covered it with hers, "You must miss them."

"It was a long time ago," Hope replied quickly, looking impassive and trying to sound unaffected, but the brunette could see the longing in her eyes. "Anyways, shall I go on?"

Josie nodded.

" _Elijah besieged and sacked cities and towns loyal to our cause one by one, working his way up the coast then into the interior. I sought to entrap him as I did Metellus, but Elijah never took the bait and made examples of subordinates who did - he once executed two centurions who allowed their men to be ambushed. I then tried to frustrate him into making a mistake by harassing his supply lines and assassinating his senior officers. It wasn't the most honorable way to fight, but I was too desperate to care. Elijah, however, showed a Spartan discipline and merely exerted his influence in Rome to ensure timely replacements for his losses. As our allies fell, our money and manpower began to dry up. Elijah campaigned in Spain for four years and those proved to be the most desperate of my career. His strategy was to deprive us of not only resources but hope itself, and it nearly succeeded. Had Elijah not been recalled to Italy along with four of his legions to repel the German invasion, my tenth year in Spain would have been my last._ "[v]

"Don't tell me you've never read your own father's book?" Hope raised an eyebrow.

"If my father wanted me to read his book then he shouldn't have sent me on all those envoys," Josie replied cheekily, earning a laugh from Hope.

"So, what are we doing today?"

"The last few days have been stressful, so I thought I'd join you and do some reading this afternoon," Josie answered. "I hope you are okay with that. I know it's nothing exciting."

"Your company is exciting enough," Hope waved her off. "What will you be reading?"

"A manuscript, actually," Josie explained, pulling out a thick binding of parchments. "There have been many treatises on military matters over the centuries, but none exists on diplomacy. I thought I could put my experience to use and write a diplomatic manual." She looked at Hope expectantly, "Some contribution from a commander who saw the war in Gaul would be welcome, of course."

"Of course." Hope grinned, "What would you like to know?"

"Well, for starters, you can tell me about the places in Gaul you've been."

"Mostly in Narbonensis," Hope answered.[vi] "Many settlements have been established since it became a province a century ago. It is now almost as Roman as Italy. Massalia is by far the most impressive part - a Greek city, of course."[vii] Josie was nodding and scribing on a piece of parchment, hanging onto Hope's every word, "I had my first beignet there, actually. The city is full of culture - art, architecture, seafood, you name it. It's beautiful. Gods, I wish I could show it to you."

Josie blushed and almost dropped her pen. In the periphery of her vision, she could see that Hope's face had turned the shade of her hair. That made her cheeks burn even harder, her heart fluttering.

"Anyways," The auburn-haired woman cleared her throat, "Gallia Comata is a different story.[viii] It's Gallic through and through. I didn't actually see a lot of it since I was at sea for much of the war, but according to people who did, the Gauls are surprisingly cultured and romantic. And their artifacts are as exquisite as any you'll find in Italy, though they have a strange religion. The Gauls worship lakes and mountains and such. If you meet one, you will do well to offer wine as a gift," Hope chucked, "the stronger the better."

Josie smiled and imagine a life when the war was over, and the _res publica_ was safe. Hope would show her Massalia and she'd taste her first beignet. Then they'd travel across the world on horseback together and see all the art and architecture and music it had to offer.

Her heart throbbed at how much she wanted that life.

* * *

"Lizzie's training with Jeremy has been going well. She seems happier. More confident."

Her father looked pleased.

"I have always known that your sister has much potential," He said, "If only she could find an outlet to release all her energy. I am glad she has found it."

"As am I."

Her father hummed.

"Any progress with Hope?"

"She is opening up to me more. I think she might even trust me now," Josie answered, guilt nagging at her stomach. "But I am not certain if she is ready to entertain turning on her father yet."

Her father hummed again.

"I trust your judgment. Do what you think is right."

_It doesn't feel right to manipulate Hope like this, even for a just cause._

"I will." Josie opted for a nod instead and took her leave.

She set out for Hope's tent, only to discover that the auburn-haired woman was not there. She did not think that Hope had escaped, of course. The camp was crawling with soldiers, and Hope of the Mikaelsons was far too recognizable a face to slip away unnoticed. All her books were still there, and a white cloth was thrown over the easel they had built a few days prior. Josie figured Hope must have been painting. She asked the guards where Hope was, and was surprised to learn that the auburn-haired woman had gone to the praetorian prefect's tent.

So Josie set off for Jeremy's tent, looking for the man who was all but her brother. She didn't find him, but she did find Hope.

"The centurions have us drilling more complex maneuvers now," Hope hummed, writing on a piece of papyrus. A young legionnaire sat across her - an ordinary soldier, judging by the lack of cape - and continued. "The food is wretched as ever, but morale is improving."

"Is there anything else you want to say?" Hope smiled at the legionnaire softly, "Perhaps a well-wish?"

The legionnaire contemplated for a few moments, then nodded, "I hope to write again soon?"

Hope nodded, "Now, for the closing, how does 'With love and longing sound?'"

"It sounds wonderful, ma'am."

Hope laughed lightly, "I told you to call me Hope, Pedro."

"Sorry, Hope." The young soldier - Pedro - looked a little sheepish.

"With love and longing, Pedro." Hope jotted the words down, then rolled the papyrus and bound it, "There, all done." She handed the letter to Pedro with a smile, "I am sure your mother will be ecstatic to hear from you."

"Thank you, Hope." Pedro grinned and stood up. He sprung to attention and saluted when he saw Josie, and the brunette returned a nod.

"I see you made a friend," Josie couldn’t help the smile on her face.

"I know what you are thinking. Hope of the Mikaelsons must be spying for her wicked father," Hope held up her hands in mock surrender. "I remembered how you told me that your father allows his soldiers to write letters home. Then I thought many of them must not be able to because they are illiterate. So I had my guards ask your friend, the praetorian prefect, if I could help write a few letters - gives me something to do other than reading. He agreed, obviously, and I get to go outside for half an hour every day in return. I was hoping you would join me?"

"It would be my pleasure."

They made their way out of Jeremy's tent.

"I have been talking to your father's men this afternoon," Hope spoke. "They are quite an amiable lot when you get to know them, and have surprisingly little desire to see my head on a pike."

"Many good men came to us from all over Rome to fight for the _res publica._ " Josie replied, "But it will be of no surprise to you that most care little for the cause. They are - as you said - only here for loot and glory. Your father's gold would buy their allegiance just as well as ours. They have no reason to wish you ill."

"War is such a tiresome business, isn't it?"

"And yet, we keep finding ourselves at it."

"Do you think that's going to change?" Hope looked at Josie, "When you publish your book? Maybe people will appreciate diplomacy and statecraft more?"

"I have been around men of the Senate all my adult life," Josie shook her head, "Their appetite for all things vanity is insatiable. Fine art and exotic animals. Gold and slaves. And glory, of course - things that only come from conquest and plunder."

"What's the point of fighting for the _res publica_ \- or anything, really, when we are only perpetuating a never-ending cycle of war? What's the point of fighting when nothing's going to change? Shouldn't we fight so there can be peace, and our children won't have to fight anymore?"

"Consul Lockwood might not be inclined to agree." The corners of Josie's lips twisted up, "He would say that there cannot be peace until all our enemies have been utterly destroyed. For if not, then they might one day make war on us again. And as our realm expands and we come into contact with new peoples, that list just grows and grows."

"But what do _you_ think?" Hope gazed into Josie's eyes, her blue eyes electrifying and Josie couldn't help but be honest.

"Consul Lockwood is a man living in the past." The brunette answered, "His obsession with the traditions of the _res publica_ \- as ancient and noble as they are - blinds him to many things. Rome has changed beyond recognition since the defeat of Hannibal, but the way Rome is run has not. Wealth and power are held by the same few families that overthrew Tarquinius half a millennium ago. Those who cannot aspire to attain either will all too gladly take up arms against Rome for the promise of them, and their number only grows as Rome expands. If the _res publica_ is to survive, it needs to adapt to the times. But those in power will never open their eyes to that when all they think about is starting the next war for the money and prestige it will bring them. Peace will go a long way to rectifying that."

Hope was shocked, to say the least, and Josie laughed at her expression.

"My great grandfather was a German auxiliary. My father is the first Saltzman to be born a Roman citizen. We are a new family and have far less attachment to tradition than old clans like the Lockwoods and the Donovans."

"But why are you siding with Lockwood then? Why not join my father, who understands times are changing?"

"You must know your father's reputation, Hope."

"Lies told by the nobles who are jealous of my father’s accomplishments and the love the common people have for him," Hope waved, her tone dismissive, and something in Josie snapped.

"What about the million people he killed in Gaul? Or the other million he sold into slavery? Or all the riches he plundered so he could evade justice through bribery? Or my father's men in Spain who surrendered to him, but he put to the sword anyway? Are those are also lies?"[ix]

Hope's jaw set, her fist clenched. Then, with a deep exhale, she forced herself to relax.

"My father is complicated." The auburn-haired woman said tersely.

Josie had not expected that. She had expected Hope to shout at her or storm off or even punch her. In fact, this whole conversation was unexpected. She was not planning on breaching the topic yet, but they had found themselves talking about the war, and just stumbled upon it.

_Maybe Hope is having doubts about her father._

Josie thought almost happily, before guilt swallowed her. She turned to Hope and saw that the auburn-haired woman's eyes had hardened. In fact, her eyes were as guarded as they were the first time Josie walked into her tent.

Josie scowled at herself for losing her cool.

"We are all complicated people," she tried to salvage the situation. Her eyes locked with Hope's, her voice sympathetic, "I do not blame you for being loyal to your father."

"Thank you," Hope said, but something between them had changed.

A tense silence fell over them for the remainder of the walk. And when it was time to return to Hope's tent, Josie told her she had to run an errand for her father.

Hope didn't ask her to stay.

* * *

[i] A _legion_ had nine _cohorts._ Each cohort counted 500 men, except for the first cohort of every legion, which counted 1,000, giving every legion 5,000 men in total. It was common for praetorian cohorts to be double-strength.

[ii] Illyria encompassed the East Adriatic coast, it was extensively colonized by the Greeks. The Roman Republic conquered Illyria during the Third Macedonian War, 120 years before Caesar’s Civil War. Resistance to Roman rule persisted and banditry was widespread. Illyria would not be made a province until a century and half after its conquest.

[iii] Numidia was an African kingdom corresponding to north-east Algeria. It was a long-time loyal Roman ally until an overambitious king provoked a war with the Roman Republic 70 years before Caesar’s Civil War. Numidia was defeated and made a client kingdom.

[iv] The Romans referred to cavalry as horses during this period.

[v] Historically, there was no German invasion at the time.

[vi] Gallia Narbonensis, later renamed Gallia Transalpina – Transalpine Gaul. Also known as Provincia Nostra – Our Province, as it was the first Roman province north of the Alps.

[vii] Massalia, modern-day Marseille, was founded as a Greek colony.

[viii] Gallia Comata, literally long-haired Gaul or free Gaul. It remained independent until Caesar’s victory in the Gallic Wars immediately preceding Caesar’s Civil War.

[ix] Historically, Caesar accepted the surrender of the Spanish legions. Some of the veterans would take up arms against Caesar again after the latter left for the East.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thank you for reading, your support means the world to me. If you've enjoyed it so far, please leave a kudo and let me know what you think of the story by commenting.
> 
> Suffice to say, the honeymoon is over and the angst is here. The war will also play a much more prominent role in the story from now on, since this is a war story after all.
> 
> Until next time!
> 
> Trivia Time
> 
> Trying to win a civil war from Greece proved a poor strategy. Pompey ceded Italy to Caesar and rallied his allies in Greece. Though he managed to raise an army larger than Caesar's there, he allowed his allies in the Senate to goad him into attacking Caesar against his better judgment, and was defeated. Pompey was murdered in Egypt when he tried to raise another army there.
> 
> Cassius and Brutus fled to Greece when the Italian people, among whom Caesar was deeply popular, turned against them. They raised a large army in the East, though not as large as Antony and Octavian's. Their legions' loyalty was also questionable as many of them had been recruited by Caesar. They met Antony and Octavian in battle twice and lost. Cassius and Brutus both committed suicide.
> 
> Antony and Octavian divided Rome between them, with the former based in the Alexandria and the latter Rome. Antony sought to march his legions to Greece and meet Octavian there. Their fleets met in battle and the Egyptians allied to Antony panicked and fled, forcing Antony to abandon the bulk of his navy. Antony's legions defected and he committed suicide as Octavian laid siege to Alexandria.
> 
> Only Sulla prevailed, but with important caveats. Sulla had raised his legions in Italy and secured his position in Rome before departing for the East. After Marius regained control of Rome, Sulla chose to invade Italy rather than wait for Marius in Greece. By the time Sulla returned to Italy with his army, Marius had died of advanced age.


	6. and a hurricane comes sweeping through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war escalates further.

"Ha!" Lizzie hurled with a cry and the dagger sank into the dummy's chest.

Jeremy ended their session with a pleased nod.

"I'm proud of you, kid," Jeremy looked at Lizzie in a way that could only be described as brotherly. "I have always known that you have great things in store for you, Lizzie. You just need to keep working as hard as you have and believe in yourself, and you will achieve them."

Lizzie was on the brink of tears, and so was Josie.

She had lied when she told Hope she had an errand to run. And when Hope did not try to persuade her to stay, as she had every time before - and Josie always said yes - the brunette found herself at the range.

It calmed her, watching Lizzie and Jeremy banter the way they have been doing since they were children. Hope had been on her mind a lot lately - the way her blue eyes shined and her red hair flew; how small and carefree and downright young she looked - and guilt was eating her away.

Josie thought watching her sister train would help take her mind off Hope. It didn't, and Lizzie quickly noticed how troubled her twin was.

"Are you okay, Jo?"

"Yes-" Josie saw her sister's disbelieving eyes, her shoulders sagged in defeat, "No."

"Is this about Hope?"

Josie blinked, "How did you know?"

"Oh, sister dearest," Lizzie chuckled, "That girl has been all you've talked about since you started treating with her. Had I known that Hope of the Mikaelsons was all it took to get you to stop nerding over your precious history books, I would have found a way to introduce the two of you a long time ago."

The brunette tried to hide her blush behind a sheet of hair.

"So," Lizzie looked at her twin expectantly, "Are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

"I'm torn, Lizzie." Josie sighed, "I want to do my duty as a Roman and defend the _res publica,_ I do. But every time I look at Hope, I feel nothing but guilt. I know that our cause is righteous, but I hate manipulating Hope. I hate leading her on and letting her think I'm her friend when I'm just taking advantage of her solitude to win her trust, to convince her to betray her own father. It feels wrong. Sacrilegious, even."

"But that's not all you are doing, is it?" Lizzie eyes her carefully, "You are not _just_ leading her on. You are not pretending to be her friend at all."

"No. No, I suppose I haven't had to pretend for a while now." Josie shook her head, "Maybe I was never pretending to begin with. But that doesn't change anything. We are still on opposite sides of the war. And I still have to manipulate her - I cannot even think about not going through with it when the stakes are this high."

"Oh, Josie." Lizzie wrapped her arms around her sister, a gesture the brunette returned without hesitation, "It is true that you had ulterior motives for befriending Hope. But that does not change the fact that you were her friend when she needed it, and showed her kindness when no one else did. And your intentions do not diminish the value of what you have done for her. I am sure Hope agrees."

"You think?"

"She is a smart woman," Lizzie stroked her sister's back, "She is bound to know what you are doing. Or at least suspect it."

"But she seems so open. And light and happy and just so... genuine."

"From what you've told me, that's the kind of person Hope is." Lizzie spoke softly, "She is Klaus' daughter. She puts up walls and does not let anyone get to know her. Then, by happenstance, you come into her life. And for the first time in as long as she can remember, she lets someone in, and it feels _amazing._ To have someone who she does not have to pretend with. To be that girl who likes to paint and ride horses and dreams of traveling - to be who she really is, not who she has to be."

"And even though she knows that you are trying to turn her against her father, she can not help but be happy when she is with you. Because that is the kind of person you are, Jo. You are kind and genuine and you bring out the best in people."

Josie's eyes watered.

"Since when did you become so wise?"

"Since my sister met someone who makes her happy," Lizzie smiled, "You feeling better now?"

Josie nodded, "I do. And I know exactly what to do."

* * *

Josie didn't know what to do.

She had meant to go see Hope as soon as she finished her conversation with Lizzie. But that day's events proved more draining than she first thought. So she turned in for the night, determined that she would talk to Hope the next day.

The next day came and so did an errand from her father - the Gods are poetic, she supposed. A merchant had arrived from Italy with a ship full of grain and fine wine, only that he had been trying to reach Klaus' camp. Her father dispatched her and Damon to treat with the merchant. After many hours of haggling, the duo agreed to purchase the merchant's cargo at a premium price. In exchange, he would share with them news from Italy, which wasn't much.

Klaus' lieutenant, Maddox, was raising fresh legions from the Italian rural poor. It was disturbing, but they had long assumed Klaus would do so. Still, it led to a long afternoon in the war tent, where Lockwood hassled her father to attack before Klaus could be reinforced. Her father stood her ground this time, however, and had the support of the legates still smarting from the previous week.

In the end, Lockwood gave up with a grunt.

It was almost dark when the meeting ended. Josie left the tent, only to be called back in minutes later. The news was much more disturbing in time.

Tyler Lockwood's hunting party was supposed to return hours ago, but there had been no sign of him or anyone among his entourage. A frantic Richard Lockwood demanded search parties be sent - a request her equally frantic father readily complied with. Lockwood was worried about his son. And Josie's heart clenched at the thought of something happening to Jeremy - the man who was all but her brother.

A contingent of riders was dispatched promptly, and did not return until late. There was no sign of Tyler Lockwood.

_Or Jeremy._

With a sigh, her father dismissed them for the night and ordered the search to resume at first light.

And when the search resumed the next day, it yielded nothing. So her father sent out all his praetorians to cover an expanded perimeter. Yet the search remained fruitless.

On day three, Josie was so agitated that she was ready to jump on a horse and go look for Jeremy herself. Before she could, however, Lizzie walked into her tent, followed by Landon.

"Alright, we made it to Josie's tent." Her blonde twin sounded irritated and as clueless as she was, "Will you _please_ tell me what in Jupiter's name is going on?"

Josie knew it was nothing good from the apologetic look on Landon's face.

"Your father ordered that the two of you be confined to the tent."

"What!" The twins exclaimed simultaneously.

"He thought you might do something rash and ordered me to see to it that you do not," Landon continued.

"You have got to be kidding me!"

Lizzie was furious. Josie felt much the same.

"Let me out at this instant or the Gods help me, bird boy, I will set that nest you call hair on fire."

"I'm sorry," Landon offered, unmoving.

It did very little to alleviate Lizzie's anger.

Josie decided she would rather not find out if Lizzie was willing to go through with her threat, "So you are saying that we are stuck in this tent until Jeremy is found?" She asked, doing her best to project calmness even though she had never felt this agitated in her life.

"Well, not exactly. You can go outside as long as you both remain in my sight at all times," Landon replied, and that seemed good enough for Lizzie.

"Fine." Lizzie huffed and tried to storm past Landon, only to be blocked by the praetorian.

"Where are you going?"

"To train," Lizzie snapped. "Now move before I move you."

Landon complied and gestured Josie to follow. The brunette didn't particularly want to, but she didn't see a choice either. Besides, a Lizzie working off her pent-up frustration was infinitely better than a Lizzie simmering with it.

The second they reached the range - which had been converted into a private training ground of sort - Lizzie turned around and lunged at Landon with a dagger Josie had no idea her twin had drawn. Fortunately for him, Landon was well trained and sidestepped Lizzie's attack with ease. He drew his own dagger and met Lizzie blow for blow, never attacking, only parrying her strikes.

Josie had no idea how long it went on - probably minutes but possibly hours - until Lizzie's face was red and she was panting heavily and Landon decided she'd had enough. He knocked the dagger out of her grip and - when Lizzie showed no sign of stopping - sent her to the ground with a gentle kick at her ankle.

"Better?" Landon held out an arm at her. Lizzie glared but accepted it.

"I just want to know if Jeremy is okay," the blonde said in a small voice.

"I know," Landon sounded sympathetic, "But your father has his best men looking for him. They will find him."

They didn't.

Josie didn't know if she could endure another day in confinement. Fortunately, she didn't have to. Unfortunately, more bad news arrived.

* * *

"This letter bears a wolf seal - Klaus' sigil," Her father said, holding up the envelope for everyone in the war tent to see. "The renegade claims he has taken a number of high-value hostages."

"Well, what does he want?" Lockwood demanded.

"He says he is inclined to simply execute our men, but, and I quote, 'this siege has me rather bored,'" Her father read, "'so I propose that one of your men fights one of mine tomorrow. If your man loses, I feed the prisoners to fish. If your man wins, I will agree to a parley to discuss the prisoners.'"

It wasn't a question whether they would accept. Nor was who would fight.

"All the other praetorians are tired after three days of searching, sir," Landon said to her father, "I am the logical choice ."

Her father agreed and gripped Landon's forearm firmly.

"I will not let you down, sir," Landon solemnly vowed.

"I have no doubt that you will not," Her father was just as solemn, "You are my best man, Kirby. Otherwise, I would not have entrusted you with my daughters' protection."

Her father told Landon to take the afternoon off duty, and Landon left the tent with a salute.

Lizzie, however, took it upon herself to shadow Landon for the rest of the day - somewhat understandable, given that Josie, too, was worried sick about Jeremy.

That was how she found herself in Landon's tent, watching her sister hassle him.

"I fail to see why this is necessary," Landon said, confused and slightly amused.

"How many times do I have to tell you?" Lizzie huffed, "You are supposed to relax and avoid anything strenuous the day before your big fight. And you are not doing that in all that armor, so off they go."

Landon just blinked, and Lizzie looked at him like he was an idiot before throwing her hands up in exasperation, "Fine, I'll do it myself." Her twin said and began unstrapping Landon's his armguard.

"Well, what in Pluto's name are you waiting for?" Lizzie snapped at Landon, who seemed too bewildered to do anything other than watch, "Take off your chest plate or do you want me to do that for you too?"

Lizzie glared and Landon complied, working on the straps until the armor slipped off his torso.

"Now what?"

Lizzie eyed Landon's red tunic with distaste, "Do you have anything other than that to wear?"

"Why would I?" Landon shrugged, "I am a soldier. A soldier does not concern himself with anything other than service to Rome while he is at war."

"I am almost moved by how _noble_ that is," Lizzie snarked, though there was no bite to her words, "Wait here." She said, and left Landon's tent promptly.

Josie and Landon just looked at each other, finding the situation too bizarre to say anything. A few minutes later, Lizzie marched back in and tossed a piece of white cloth at Landon.

"Put this on." The blonde instructed, and Landon blinked, realizing that he wasn't actually holding a piece of cloth.

"You want me to wear a toga?" Came Landon's disbelieving voice.

"That's what I said, wasn't it?" Lizzie rolled her eyes.

"A toga."

"Obviously."

" _A toga._ "

" _Ob-viou-sly._ "

Landon stared.

"Do you want me to give you an order? Will that make you start functioning again?" Lizzie huffed when she didn't get a reply, "Fine." She cleared her throat and spoke in an unnaturally deep voice, "Centurion Landon Kirby of the first praetorian cohort. In the name of the Senate and People of Rome, I order you to put on this toga."[i]

"Can you umm- I mean, do you mind waiting outside while I changed?" Landon uncharacteristically stammered with a flush.

With another roll of her eyes, Lizzie made her way out of the tent with Josie in toll. A minute later, Landon poked his head out awkwardly.

"Oh good, you are done," Lizzie exclaimed before Landon could say anything and pushed past him back into the tent. She turned around when her companions were inside again and gave Landon a once-over appreciatively, "Huh. Guess who cleans up nicely."

"Anyways," Josie cleared her throat, looking at her twin, "Is there a point to this, Lizzie?"

"Why, we are praying, of course, like every good Roman before battle." Lizzie said seriously and in quick succession made a number of extravagant gestures completely beyond Josie's comprehension, "Mars Ultor, bless bird boy with strength and guide him to victory- close your mouths before you catch flies, you idiots! We are not actually praying."[ii]

The blonde turned to Landon expectantly, "What do you do to relax?"

"Pardon?" Landon blinked.

"Urgh, are you always this dense, or are you just having a slow day?" Lizzie threw her hands up, "What do you do to relax. You know, to unwind, loosen up, whatever."

"I train, I guess?"

"Wow, I could not have seen that coming at all!" Lizzie gasped dramatically.

"Lay off him, Lizzie." Josie rolled her eyes, "Landon, what do you do when you are not training? Do you have any pastime?"

Landon gave her a blank stare.

"Art? Music? Poetry?" Josie prompted.

Lizzie sniggered while Landon scratched his head, "I don't really do anything, I guess?"

Lizzie sighed dramatically, "Of course. Should have known bird boy would be an uncultured pleb. Well, how are we going to entertain ourselves now?"[iii]

"I could play my _pandoura?_ " Josie suggested, _"_ There are a few songs that I have been working on."

"Why not?" Lizzie shrugged and Landon nodded his assent.

Josie hurried to her tent and returned with a small, wooden chest. She flipped the cover open and retrieved her trusty _pandoura._ The brunette then tugged the strings a few times experimentally and cleared her throat.

" _And who are you, the proud lord said, that I must bow so low? Only a cat of a different coat, that's all the truth I know. In a coat of gold or a coat of red, a lion still has claws, and mine are sharp my lord, as sharp and long as yours._ "

"Wow, I'm going to stop you right here, Jo. If I hear that at a wedding, I'm getting the fuck out of there," Lizzie exclaimed. "How in the name of Jupiter Optimus Maximus did you come up with this?"

Josie shrugged, "I had this bizarre dream one night about a land far away. The words and the music kind of just popped into my head. It was as if Apollo put them there."

"Well, this is not a funeral," said Lizzie, "I'm sure Apollo would want you to play something that might actually cheer bird boy up."

"I have a name, you know."

"Oh, I know."

"Right," Josie cleared her throat.

" _Are you, are you, coming to the tree? They strung up a man, they say who murdered three. Strange things did happen there no stranger would it be, if we met at midnight in the hanging tree._ "

Lizzie beamed.

"I feel ready to rise up and overthrow a tyrant. Appropriate, given the circumstances."

"What are we doing now?"

Silence.

"Well," Landon cleared his throat, "If that is all, I should prepare for the fight."

"We are preparing."

"I mean actual preparations."

Lizzie looked at him blankly.

"With a weapon _-_ "

"No!" Lizzie shouted so vehemently that Landon looked visibly taken aback.

"Look," Landon held up his hands placatingly, but it only served to aggravate Lizzie more, "The fight is tomorrow and I should practice-"

"I said no!"

"What's your problem!" Landon finally snapped.

"My problem is that you are going to cut yourself or break your arm and nobody will be able to fight for Jeremy!" Lizzie yelled.

Landon looked stunned, remorse filling his eyes.

"I understand you are worried. I do. Jeremy is like a brother to you, and you want him back safe and sound," Landon consoled her gently, "I want that too. He is a good man. He has always treated us fairly and respectfully when so many officers do not. But worrying will not help him."[iv]

"Do you think you are going to win?" There was not one ounce of steel left in Lizzie's voice, only exhaustion woven with fear. Her eyelashes glistened with dampness and those eyes were brimming in a way that highlighted how blue they were, pure and young and vulnerable. At that moment, Lizzie was just a girl who was scared but held onto this sliver of hope against her better judgment.

Landon got up from his chair and knelt in front of Lizzie. Her hands were clasped together so tightly that the knuckles had turned white. Landon covered them with his own hand and gently placed his other hand on her knee. Then he spoke in a soft voice while his eyes gazed at Lizzie like she was the only thing in the world. "Whoever Klaus sends will be a very skilled and experienced fighter, but I have been through my fair share of fights too, and I will fight with everything I have, Elizabeth, I swear to you. And if Mars Ultor favors me, I will win, and Jeremy will get to watch his child grow up. But I need you to trust me to do my job. Can you do that?"

"I trust you," Lizzie nodded seriously, then paused, "and I am sorry for yelling at you."

Landon smiled, "You are already forgiven. Now, how about we go to the range? You can help me prepare and make sure that I do not, um, overexert myself."

All but forgotten, Josie eyed them with interest.

* * *

[i] _Senatus Populusque Romanus,_ SPQR for short – the Senate and People of Rome. It was the official term used to refer to the Roman state during the republican era, or more specifically, the government of the Republic.

[ii] _Mars_ was the Roman equivalent of Ares, the Greek God of War _._ _Mars Ultor,_ Mars the Avenger, was the most important cult of Mars. Historically, it was created by Augustus, the first Roman Emperor and the adopted son of Julius Caesar, to vow for revenge for his father. Magistrates who were given military command would depart from the Temple of Mars Ultor. Mars was also the guarantor of treaties, thereby making him the God of Peace as well.

[iii] Roman families were divided into patrician and plebeian. Patricians were noble families traced back to the very foundation of Rome, while the plebeians were the common people, in other words, everyone who was not a patrician. Though by the late Republic, this distinction had faded away in an important way - members of the aristocracy, who controlled Rome's wealth and public offices, came from patrician as well as plebian families.

[iv] Most of a Roman citizen’s legal rights were suspended during their service in the legion. This allowed officers, especially centurions, to control their men through brutal discipline and fear of summary judgment. Officers would often shame and threaten their men into battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, Hope will return in the next chapter.
> 
> The war continues to escalate and fun times are coming.
> 
> What did you guys think of the Lizzie/Landon interaction?
> 
> As always, thank you for reading. If you've liked what you've read so far, please leave a kudo and a comment to let me know what you think.
> 
> Until next time!
> 
> Trivia Time
> 
> Slaying the enemy commander in single combat was the greatest possible glory for a Roman commander. It was considered to be even more honorable than receiving a triumph. This honor was recognized only a small handful of times throughout Roman history. The last recorded instance took place during the reign of Augustus, when Marcus Licinius Crassus, grandson of the triumvir, slew a barbarian king in Macedonia.


	7. no more heartbreaks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Landon fights Klaus' champion.

"Daniel Warren."

"Landon Kirby."

Josie watched nervously as Landon set off to no man's land between the two camps. It was early in the morning, but Lizzie was there. As was her father, Dorian, Damon, Lockwood, Donovan, and every other officer and Senator of import. Their position on the hill gave them a clear view, and Josie could see that a small crowd had gathered on Klaus' side too.

The two combatants met in the middle, their weapons drawn. Landon held a _spatha_ and a _parma_ \- a circular shield smaller than the one typically used by legionnaires - while his opponent, Daniel, wielded a pair of _gladii._

"Kirby." Daniel smirked, "I wonder if people will remember your name when they sing songs about how I slew a man in single combat." He lunged at Landon without warning, but the centurion was ready.

Landon met one _gladius_ with his shield and parried another with his blade. Daniel pressed relentlessly, his _gladii_ gleaming as they cut wild arcs across the air, only for Landon to meet him blow for blow, his steps steady as he retreated.

"Arrr!" Daniel roared and attacked again, slicing his _gladius_ down. Landon deflected it with his _spatha,_ only this time, Daniel brought his blade back up and struck at the inside of Landon's shield arm. Landon had quick reflexes, however, and moved his unprotected forearm out of the way, swatting the _gladius_ away with the edge of his shield. Daniel looked stunned for a moment, but Landon was steadfast on his feet and did not press while Daniel readied his _gladii_ again.

"Why don't you fight me if you are such a great warrior, _Kirby._ "

"Someone people will one day sing songs about should be able to make me."

Daniel reddened with fury and threw himself at Landon with a mighty cry, his _gladii_ gleamed as he sent one wild swing after another at his opponent with renewed vigor. But Landon did not falter. The centurion met his opponent's blows with measured strokes, never attacking, only parrying. Then he wasn't.

With a sudden thrust, Landon slammed his shield into Daniel's face, catching his opponent completely off guard. Daniel staggered back, his nose bloody, and Landon struck. He sent a jab at Daniel's left, which his opponent had enough acuity to block, but it was a feint. Landon brought up his left arm at the same time and struck with his shield again, this time slamming it into Daniel's chest. Daniel stumbled, and Landon sent one of his _gladii_ flying with a flicker of his _spatha._ Daniel tried to swing his other _gladius_ at Landon, but Landon simply kicked him square in the stomach.

In a matter of seconds, Landon had Daniel on his back with a boot on his chest and a blade at his throat.

Then he gave Daniel a look of pure disdain, spat, removed his foot from his chest and tossed his shield aside.

"What's the matter, I thought you wanted me to fight?" Landon smirked, "Why don't you come get more? Unless you are _scared._ "

"Never!" Daniel roared and jumped on his feet, his remaining _gladius_ shooting up in a swing that was all too easy for Landon to block.

"What a decadent," Daniel eyed Landon's _spatha_ with hatred, their blades locked, venom dripping from his voice, "using a barbarian weapon. I bet you are not even a real Roman. You are one of Saltzman's Spanish bastards, aren't you? Do you cry like a woman when your master takes you from-"[i]

Landon unsheathed a dagger from his sleeve and stuck it in Daniel's eye before anyone could even blink.

"A soldier does not chitchat in battle," He uttered, and Daniel dropped to the ground, dead.

* * *

To everyone's surprise, especially her own, Lizzie flung herself at Landon the second he made it back on the hill. Landon caught her with his arms, and the two of them stay locked in an embrace until her father cleared his throat.

They jumped apart, flustered.

"Right." Landon cleared his throat and turned to her father, "Klaus' men took Daniel's body away and told me to give this to you, sir." He said, holding out an envelope.

"Thank you, centurion," Her father eyed the wolf sigil warily, "You have earned the rest of the day off duty."

"Thank you, sir." Landon saluted.

"I am calling a war council now!" Her father announced, and Josie shot her a quick, apologetic look before following him back to camp.

The crowd cleared out as quickly as it had gathered, leaving Lizzie alone with Landon.

"Good job out there," the blonde offered, "That was some fight."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Back to ma'am now, are we?" Lizzie teased, pleased when Landon's face flushed.

"Sorry, ma'am, I mean-" Landon ran a hair through his hair, and Lizzie decided to stop torturing him. After all, he did just win a duel.

"Relax, bird boy," Lizzie grinned, "I was just messing with you. I know your soldierly brain is not programmed to call a lady anything other than ma'am." She paused, then added, "But I liked it when you called me Elizabeth."

"I shall call you Elizabeth then," Landon looked at her so earnestly that Lizzie fought the urge to turn her face away.

"Are you okay? You are not hurt, are you?" Lizzie asked, "I mean, I don't think I saw him land a hit on you, but I might have missed it."

"Are you showing concern for me, Elizabeth?"

"What? No, of course not! I-" Lizzie flustered and made to deny until she saw the grin on Landon's face, "Wait a second, did you just... crack a _joke?_ "

Landon looked oddly pleased with himself.

"There may be hope for you yet, centurion," Lizzie laughed, punching Landon's arm lightly, "Come on, you just won a single combat. You deserve to relax for an afternoon."

Landon, however, seemed troubled, and Lizzie was quick to notice it.

"What's wrong?" She asked.

"Nothing. It's just that-" Landon shook his head, hesitant, "I thought the fight would be a lot harder."

* * *

" _Neutral ground at sundown._ "

Her father read the message aloud, "No other demands or instructions."

"What are we to make of this?" Lockwood asked.

Her father shook his head, "Klaus doesn't seem to want to convey anything other than the parley's time and location."

"Yes, I would wager that is precisely his intention," replied Donovan, "Klaus does not want us to know what to expect or show his hand in any way. There is nothing we can do but wait until sundown."

"How can you be so damn calm!" Lockwood snarled, scowling at Donovan, "My son is in that sociopath's clutches for Pluto's sake!"

"You are not the only one who's worried! He has my best friend too!" Donovan, to Josie's surprise, snapped back angrily. She had seen the domineering Consul push Donovan around more times than she could count. But she couldn't remember one time when the diffident Senator actually stood his ground.

"Now, colleagues. I am well aware of Klaus' reputation. And I have not forgotten what he did to my men in Spain, nor will I ever," pain and regret filled her father's eyes, "But this bickering only plays into his hands. We must not lose our heads if we want to help Jeremy," A pointed look at Lockwood, "Or Tyler."

"Forgive my outburst, colleagues," Lockwood tore his glare away from Donovan reluctantly.

"We have done all we can for now," Her father declared, "I will take my leave to prepare to meet with Klaus. Josette. Damon. I expect the two of you by my side at the parley.

"Of course."

"Certainly."

"If that is all, colleagues, we all have duties that demand our attention," Her father rose, "Josette."

Josie stayed behind while the others piled out of the tent. Soon, it was just her and her father.

"How are you holding up?" Her father asked gently.

"I'm alright. Worried, of course," Josie bit her bottom lip, "I hope Jeremy is okay."

"That is my hope too."

"Father," Josie hesitated, "Do you think Klaus will let him go?"

"I do not know," Her father shook his head, troubled, "Klaus was not always the tyrant he is today. I remember a time when he was honorable. When I could say with confidence that he would not harm hostages. But now? I can only pray to the Gods."

Josie nodded with unease.

"And how is your sister doing?"

"As well as can be expected, I guess," Josie answered, "Lizzie is... Lizzie. She is worried sick about Jeremy, but her training is giving her something to focus on. And she has been spending some time with Landon, which, surprisingly, makes everything easier for her to deal with."

"Landon, huh?" Her father nodded, "I suppose it'd be good for Lizzie to have someone she can be herself with other than you and Jeremy." He paused, "Oh, and you might want to check on Hope."

_Oh shit, Hope._

Josie's eyes widened. She'd meant to talk to the auburn-haired woman but that was days ago. She had been so caught up with trying to find Jeremy, then worrying about the fight and the parley that she had completely forgotten about Hope.

Her father chuckled when he saw the panic on her face.

"If you leave now, you can still spend some time with her before you have to go prepare for the meeting," He said, "You may find her the same place you did last time."

Josie ran out of the tent.

* * *

Hope was sitting across the same young legionnaire he was with last time, holding her copy of _The Civil Wars_.

"Would you like me to read another passage?" Hope asked, not yet noticing Josie.

The young legionnaire - Pedro - nodded eagerly.

"Alright," Hope cleared her throat and began in a soft voice.

_"Elijah's departure lifted the boot from our throat, but the damage he had already inflicted was immense. He had no quarrels with using torture to extract the identities of our sympathizers back in Rome, whom he had executed or murdered. By the war's twelfth year, we could no longer replace our losses of men or money. However, the Senate had sent eight legions to the East under Lucien Castle in the previous year, while Elijah's army was still tied up in Germania. This gave us a brief window of opportunity where our opponents could not easily replace their losses either. I resolved that the war would end that year - if I could win one more decisive victory, the Senate would be forced to sue for peace, and if I failed, I would not have the resources to wage a major campaign again."_ _ **[ii]** _

"My mother always tells me stories about General Saltzman," said Pedro, "how he liberated Spain from the tyrant Sulla."

"Did your father fight in the war?" Hope asked.

"My father was a fisherman," Pedro shook his head, "I don't remember him. My mother says he died when Elijah Mikaelson sacked our town and sold us into slavery. She says General Saltzman refused to sign the peace treaty until we were all freed."

"Oh." Hope made a sound, "I'm sorry. Elijah Mikaelson is my uncle- or was. Nobody knows if he is still alive."

"It's okay, Hope," Pedro smiled sadly, "I like you. You are kind and nothing like that evil man who killed my father. You are a good person and my mother would be angry if I judged you by your family."

Hope swallowed thickly and took a few seconds to steady herself.

"Thank you, Pedro."

"You're welcome, Hope," Pedro replied with a grin, "I must return to training now. Farewell."

Pedro rose, and his eyes widened at the sight of Josie.

"Ma'am," He snapped to attention and saluted. Josie sent him off with a nod.

"Oh." was all Hope was when she saw Josie.

"Hi," Josie offered, hesitant. Just a week ago she would have walked to the auburn-haired woman without hesitation, greeting her like a close friend. Now, she was no longer sure if she would be welcome, "It was kind of you to read to him."

"Not like there is much else to do. I don't exactly get visitors anymore," Hope shrugged, and guilt churned away at Josie's gut.

"I'm sorry, Hope. I did not mean to avoid you after last time. It's just that," Josie bit her lip, fidgeting, "Jeremy is in trouble, and I have been so worried I have not had the time to think about anything else."

Hope's eyes widened in alarm, "Is he okay?"

"Yes, I think," Josie replied hesitantly, "Well, I don't know. He is being held hostage by your father."

"Oh." Hope shifted on her feet uncomfortably, "Will you tell me what happened?"

So Josie did.

"That's- I'm sorry," Hope said when the brunette was finished, guilt evident in her tone, "I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything, Hope," Josie smiled sadly, "It is not your fault. You are not responsible for your father's actions."

"But he is going to be okay, right? Landon won the single combat and my father said he'd let him go, didn't he?"

"Your father made no such commitment," Josie shook her head, "Just that he would agree to a parley."

"Well, my father is-" Hope's tone was uncertain, "He is a flawed person. And he has done some unpleasant things. But he is not a monster. I am sure he will not hurt Jeremy just for the sake of it."

_I wouldn't be so sure._

"I can only hope that he won't."

They stood there, the conversation from the last time they saw each other hanged over them and neither knew what to say. Finally, Hope cleared her throat.

"I am all finished up here for the day. Do you want to join me for a walk?" Hope asked tentatively.

_Yes! Josie wanted to scream._

"I am afraid I must leave for preparations now," Josie said instead.

"I understand," Hope looked down at her feet, forlorn, and Josie's chest tightened.

"But I could come to see you tonight, after I return from the parley?" the brunette offered cautiously, "If you'd like."

"I'd like that very much," Hope looked at her with a soft smile and Josie suddenly felt a lot lighter, the pressure on her chest gone.

"Okay then," Josie gave Hope a smile of her own, "I really must leave now, but perhaps you can accompany me to my tent?"

"Of course," Hope beamed and fell in next to Josie and they were walking side by side in comfortable silence, as if Josie never snapped at Hope and Hope never clammed herself back up.

"I presume we are in Epirus or Macedonia?"

"You presume right. We are near Nicopolis. We could be in Apollonia in a matter of days if we travel light and ride hard."

"Ah, Apollonia," Hope said, "I have wanted to see it since Cicero called it _a great and important city_. In fact, I am surprised that I have not seen Cicero at camp, I thought for sure that he'd join your father."[iii]

"You don't know?"

"I don't know what?"

Josie sighed, "Cicero was reluctant to abandon Rome. He did flee eventually, but his hesitation cost him his life." The brunette gave Hope a pointed look, "Your father's agents murdered him before he could reach Greece."[iv]

"Oh." Hope was at a loss of words for a few moments, "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Cicero was an extraordinary Roman and a dangerous enemy to have. Even my father respects that. Albeit in his own, murderous way."

_I'd rather not have his respect them._

"I see you have made much progress with _The Civil Wars,_ " Josie directed the conversation away from murder.

"Aye, I think I will be finished with it soon," Hope answered, before grinning, "And don't worry, I plan to start reading your work next. I am eager to see if your words are as beautiful as you."

Josie almost tripped.

"You have a brilliant mind, that is, and I'm sure I will enjoy your writing," Hope stuttered with a not inconsiderable amount of panic in her voice, her eyes wide and her face as red as her hair.

"Right. Thank you. I am flattered," Josie choked out, her heart pounding furiously.

They avoided meeting each other's eyes awkwardly until they were saved by the sight of Josie's tent.

"This is me." Josie cleared her throat.

"This is you." Josie could swear there was a tinge of red on Hope's face still, "I shall see you tonight then."

"I look forward to it." Josie nodded and walked the rest of the way to her tent. She was apprehensive about meeting Klaus, and nervous for Jeremy, but she had mended things with Hope - sort of - and that made her giddy with happiness. At least she had Hope again.

She was about to go in when she heard the auburn-haired woman call out her name.

"For what it's worth," Hope said sincerely, "I hope Jeremy is okay."

"Thank you, Hope." Josie smiled at Hope one last time.

* * *

"Alaric!" Klaus greeted her father as if they were familiars.

A tent had been erected in the neutral ground between their camps. Her father had brought a small contingent of praetorians with him, and Josie saw that Klaus had done the same.

"Klaus." Her father nodded.

Although there was a table in the middle of the tent, Klaus stood, as did her father.

"When was the last time we saw each other, almost a decade ago? You must tell me how you have been."

Her father rested his fists on the table and leaned forward, "Neither you nor I came here for small talk, Klaus. Let us not dally."

Klaus ignored him and waved at one of his men. A praetorian placed two goblets on the table and filled them with wine.

"A fine Spanish red," Klaus sipped, "All thanks to you. Had you not returned Spain to Rome, we would be stuck drinking that foul stuff Lockwood does so enjoy."

Her father made no move to touch the goblet or remove his glare from Klaus' face.

"Must you be such a spoilsport," Klaus sighed dramatically, "You should relax a little. Drink. Have some fun. Enjoy all the fineries the world has to offer."

"I will have plenty of time to relax once the _res publica_ is safe," said her father brusquely.

Klaus rolled his eyes, "the _res publica_ this, the _res publica_ that, does your lot ever talk about anything else?"

"I am not here for your games, Klaus." Her father growled, "I am here because you offered to parley. If that is not your intention then I have no reason to suffer your company any longer."

"Fine then." Klaus set the goblet down, "You _have_ done me a great honor, Consul, by gracing me - a lowly renegade - with your presence. I owe you my thanks. And to express my gratitude, I have prepared a gift for you." Klaus smirked and beckoned at his men, "Boys, bring Consul Saltzman his gift."

Two praetorians heaved a large, wooden chest onto the table.

"Do have a look, Your Excellency," Klaus gestured, "I wouldn't want to have prepared your gift for nothing."

Warily, her father flipped the chest open. Inside was half a dozen severed heads.

One of them was Jeremy's.

* * *

[i] The _spatha_ was Germanic in origin. Historically, it was not introduced to the Roman military until the early imperial era. It was used by non-citizen auxiliaries at first and gradually adopted by the legion itself, replacing the _gladius_ as its primary weapon.

[ii] Historically, the Eastern campaign – the Third Mithridatic War – took place thirty years before Caesar’s Civil War. Over the course of ten years, the Romans would conquer all of Asia Minor, Syria, and Judea, and Armenia would become a client state for the following decades.

[iii] _Apollonia_ was a Greek city on the Illyrian coast – one of the most important in the region.

[iv] Cicero was a former Roman Consul and a leading statesman. He was also one of the greatest lawyers, orators and philosophers in Roman history. During his consulship, he foiled a conspiracy to overthrow the Republic and controversially executed the conspirators without a trial. Historically, he was able to join republican forces in Greece and was pardoned by Caesar. After Caesar’s assassination, he led the republican resistance to Caesar’s lieutenants who made themselves warlords, and was killed for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Taking care of you and Jeremy has been- has been the closest I've ever come to the life I always wanted." - Alaric to Elena, TVD season 3 episode 20


	8. and who are you that i must bow so low

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fallout.

Josie felt faint.

Her father cried as if he was struck by a _gladius_ and had his abdomen torn open. He staggered back and sunk onto the chair.

Damon balled his hands into fists.

One of her father's praetorians made an anguished sound and took a step forward, his _gladius_ out. His comrades followed suit and Klaus' men responded in kind.

Before anyone knew it, two dozen soldiers had drawn their blades.

"You. Truly. Are. A. Monster." Her father looked at Klaus with fury in his eyes and spat the words out.

"On the contrary, Consul, I consider myself a teacher," Klaus leaned in, his voice low, "and this is today's lesson. I cannot be bought, intimidated, or negotiated with. You think you have leverage because you have my daughter? You have nothing. Nothing! As you can see," Klaus gestured at the chest, "Your attempt to use her to sway me has failed. She means nothing to me. Daniel? Did you really think that's the best I had to offer? He was nobody. Some fool I plucked from Campania. You think having my daughter gives you hope to save someone you care about or maybe even your precious _res publica?_ You save nothing. So go ahead and kill her. I will destroy you and feed your corpse to my wolves, and nothing you can do will stop that."

Her father shot to his feet, "Look at yourself, _Niklaus._ A pathetic little man who has to kill those who are defenseless to make yourself feel powerful. Caroline would be ashamed of you."

"Don't you dare mention her name!" Klaus bellowed. His entire face had distorted with genuine, uncontrollable rage within seconds, his eyes burning with hatred.

"Or what? What are you going to do? Kill me? Like you killed Jeremy? Like you killed my men in Spain?" Her father was seething, "You are no better than Mikael. Go on then. Kill me. Strike me down where I stand."

Klaus had schooled his face back into a smirk, his eyes blank, "Where would be the fun in that?"

"Fun? You want _fun?_ I'll give you fun," Her father hissed, "Let's end this war right here, right now the way of our ancestors. I challenge you to a single combat."[i]

"A single combat?" Klaus laughed coldly, "Why would I do that when I can watch you suffer in the knowledge that you failed to save yet another person you claim to care about? Let's go, boys."

Klaus flicked his wrist and his praetorians piled out of the tent after him.

Her father sunk onto the chair again, his head in his hands, and _screamed._

* * *

"Richard," Alaric looked at his co-Consul sorrowfully, "Why don't you sit down."

"Where is my boy?" Lockwood asked. Silence met him and the silver-haired Consul asked again, this time firmer, "Where is my boy?"

"Why don't you sit down," Alaric gestured at the chair and sat down himself, a wave of exhaustion washing over him.

Lockwood complied and looked at him expectantly. In the corner of his eyes, Alaric could see that Matt was doing the same.

"Your boy is gone, Richard."

Lockwood looked like he didn't hear him.

"My boy is gone? What do you mean my boy is gone?" He demanded

"He's dead. Klaus killed him." Alaric looked at him with grief-stricken eyes.

"Killed him- Tyler. Tyler is dead?" Lockwood choked, "My boy is dead?"

Alaric could only nod.

Lockwood's shoulders sagged in disbelief.

"And Jeremy?" Matt asked, looking as though he already knew the answer but held out for a miracle. A sharp pain shot through Alaric's heart.

"I'm sorry." Alaric shook his head, suddenly feeling he had aged twenty years in mere minutes.

"I see," Matt whispered, his eyes downcast.

"I must," Lockwood surged onto his feet, "I must write to Carol. I must inform her of what has happened."

"Richard, maybe that's not such a good idea right now," Alaric tried, his voice coarse, "You should drink some water. Lie down."

"No." Lockwood shook his head vigorously, "No. I must write to Carol. She needs to know what has happened. She needs to know that Tyler- that Tyler- Oh my boy. My sweet boy."

Lockwood took a step forward, his body trembling. Then, he collapsed.

* * *

"Josie. Hi." Hope's face lightened up at the sight of her so brilliantly that it made Josie's heart ache.

_How do I tell her that her own father has forsaken her?_

Josie tried to return a smile, but all she managed was a grimace.

"What's wrong?" the auburn-haired woman frowned, sensing Josie's distress. The reason dawned on her quickly, "It's Jeremy, isn't it? Did something happen to him."

"I-" Josie croaked, and a sob came out. Hope quickly closed the distance between them and gathered Josie in her arms as the brunette broke down, running a hand across her back soothingly.

"Jeremy is dead." Josie managed to get out between the sobs.

Jeremy is dead.

Jeremy, who was like a brother to her. Jeremy, who was brave and kind and strong. Jeremy, who protected Lizzie from her bullies. Jeremy, who drew Josie when they were children. Jeremy, who wanted to set sail and see the world. Jeremy, who would never see Anna again. Jeremy, who would never meet his child.

Jeremy is dead.

The hand that had been caressing her back stilled.

"I- I'm sorry," Hope whispered, her hand resumed rubbing circular motions over Josie's back.

"He- Gods," Josie sobbed harder, images flashing in her mind. Jeremy's severed head, Klaus' cold smirk, her father's anguished scream. "He- He didn't want to negotiate. He wouldn't even entertain a trade," Josie felt Hope stiffen when the auburn-haired woman realized she was talking about her father, but her gentle ministrations did not stop. "He was never going to let Jeremy go. He let Landon win the fight on purpose. He gave us hope so he could hurt us even more. And he- he-" Josie's voice broke, "He made my father find Jeremy's head in a box."

Hope looked like she felt sick.

"I'm sorry, Jo. I'm so sorry." The auburn-haired woman held her tighter, and Josie wanted nothing more than to forget about everything outside the tent - Jeremy, Klaus, the war, and stay in Hope's arms forever. But she couldn't. Gathering every ounce of strength in her body, Josie forced herself to pull away from Hope and face the auburn-haired woman.

"Th- There's more." Josie sniffed and swallowed thickly, her heart in her throat, "Your father, he- He said that you meant nothing to him. He said that we could kill you for all he cared."

Hope looked like all the oxygen was sucked out of her lungs. She took a step back, her body quivering. She tried to wrap her arms around herself to stop the shaking, but it only got worse.

Josie wanted nothing more than to close the distance between them and wrap her arms around Hope, but she was a sobbing wreck and Hope was looking anywhere but her.

"You know, my father always tells me that we Mikaelsons live by a code. That family always comes first. He's been telling me that since I was old enough to crawl," Hope laughed humorlessly, "And I believed him. Of course I did, I was a silly little girl who hang onto her father's every word. I guess I'm just another idiot who fell for his lies."

"I'm sorry, Hope." Josie stepped closer to her instinctively, eyes still red, the urge to comfort Hope overtaking her senses, but Hope took another step back.

"No. Don't."

"Hope-"

"Please," Hope's voice cracked, "I'd like to be alone now."

And so Josie left her.

* * *

"Ahhhh!" Lizzie screamed and found herself on her back for the hundredth time.

Landon pulled her back up and she lunged again in no time.

She screamed and stabbed and slashed and Landon let her. The centurion blocked all her blows, backstepping deftly as she advanced. Lizzie tightened her grip on her dagger and cut a wild arc at Landon's face and he met it with his _gladius,_ wrestling the blade out of her hand and sending her to the ground again with a sweep.

Landon pulled her up once more and offered Lizzie her dagger back. The blonde took the blade and flung it as hard as she could.

"This is pointless!" She threw her hands up, "At this rate I am never going to be able to fend for myself!"

"Patience, Elizabeth," said Landon placatingly, "A dagger takes a long time to master. You are doing well for a beginner."

"How long?"

"A dagger is at an inherent disadvantage against a sword since it's so much shorter," Landon replied, "It could take years of training before one can go toe to toe with an opponent skilled with a longer blade."

"What!" Lizzie exclaimed, "I don't have _years,_ I need to be ready now! Show me how to use a _gladius._ " She demanded and Landon obliged, turning over his _gladius_ to her hilt first.

"Grip it like so," Landon instructed, "and balance your feet like so."

Lizzie did as she was told and Landon nodded, "Remember, stab not slash. Now have a go at the dummy, see how it feels."

Lizzie cried and struck the dummy with all her might. The _gladius_ plunged into the dummy's chest with ease and Lizzie let out a pleased hum. When she tried to pull the _gladius_ back out, however, she found that the blade was stuck. So she tried again, this time with both her arms. Still, no avail and Landon chuckled.

"Here, let me." He said and gripped the _gladius_ with both hands, "A _gladius_ is a devastating weapon. It's sharp and smooth - so much that it cuts through flesh like butter and the flesh closes right over it," Landon glanced at the dummy's chest, "or hay, in this case. That's why we give it a hard twist when we pull it out, like so." Landon said and tore the blade out. A loud thud came as the dummy's severed arm hit the ground.

"You can tear off a limb if you do it hard enough," He added, glancing at the arm. "It is ideal for fighting in formation, but if you ever have the need to draw a blade, I cannot imagine it would be under such circumstances. Perhaps this is not the most appropriate weapon for you."

"Jeremy said the same thing," Lizzie turned to Landon, "What about a _spatha?_ You used it to fight Daniel, didn't you? Why? I thought you soldiers worshipped your _gladius._ "

"The _gladius_ has indeed won many battles for the legion," Landon sheathed his _gladius,_ "But it has flaws that become apparent as soon as you step out into the open. Have you ever seen a Celt?"

Lizzie shook her head.

"No, of course not." Landon chucked, "I have. They are fearsome warriors, strong and vicious, and when they charge, they let out this war cry that inspires genuine terror. Many flee at the very sight of them - only a fool will not. If you pit a one against a Roman, the Celt will cleave the Roman in half. And yet, we crushed them again and again. Do you know why?"

"My father told us stories about the Catabri who fought with him in Spain. Terrifying warriors who had no sense of discipline or strategy. I presume that is the reason?"[ii]

"Aye." Landon affirmed, "A legion is defined by its discipline. A legionnaire is not a warrior, but a cog in a machine. All you have to do is hold your shield for a few minutes and poke with your blade, and your centurion will rotate you off. You do not need to be smart or skilled to excel, just able to follow orders. But when you are not protected by a shield wall to your front and fifty brothers to your back, you need to keep your footwork steady, your reflexes quick, and your mind sharp. You need to dodge, parry, and slash. You can do all those things well enough with a _gladius,_ but a _gladius_ is simply too short and heavy to be optimal."[iii]

Landon drew his _spatha._

"A _spatha,_ on the other hand, is lighter and has longer reach, qualities that make it an awkward weapon if you are packed tightly in formation, but eminently suitable if you are fighting in the open. Here."

Lizzie accepted the blade and gave it an experimental swing. It felt a bit odd given how much longer it was than her dagger, but the blonde was sure that she'd get used to it after some practice.

"Go ahead, give it a try." Landon pointed at the dummy, "You slash this time rather than stab."

Lizzie slashed the _spatha_ down at the dummy and cleaved its other arm clean off.

"How did that feel?"

"Like it has promise."

Landon hummed, "Let's see if we have finally found the weapon for you."

He drew his _gladius_ and faced Lizzie. The blonde grinned and dropped into a fighting stance.

* * *

"Colleagues."

Josie scanned the tent. The six legates were all present, varying from forlorn to sullen. Lockwood's chair was empty and Donovan looked like he was barely there. Damon didn't look sober.

"Unfortunately, my co-Consul cannot be with us today." Her father continued, "The physician believes that his chronic drinking and grief have finally placed too much stress on his body. We can only pray to Apollo that he will wake up soon and make a full recovery. Now, we do have an important matter to discuss."

He held up a letter with the telltale wolf sigil.

"Klaus demands a substantial sum of gold before he releases the bodies. Two thousand pounds, to be exact."

"That's the _praemium_ of fifty legionnaires!" One of the legates cried, outraged.[iv]

"It is, and our treasury is not quite aflush with gold at the moment," Her father nodded grimly, "But Romans do not leave our own behind. We bury our dead. Damon," He looked to his side, "I want you to treat with Klaus' envoy."

Damon nodded.

"What about me?" Josie asked, "Do you not want me to treat with the envoy too?"

"Sit this one out, Josette. Take some time for yourself," said her father soothingly, "Damon can handle it."

"No." Josie shook her head, "I am perfectly fine, father. I will join Damon."

"Are you certain?" Her father looked concerned.

"I will not leave Jeremy's body in Klaus' hands." Josie was determined and her father knew better than to deny her.

_And I need to do something, otherwise I will spend all my time torturing myself with thoughts of Hope._

"Alright," He nodded. "If that is all-"

"Not just yet, Consul. I must voice my objection," Donovan spoke up.

"You object?" Josie was surprised, and so was her father. She thought that the reserved, if not timid, Senator would simply nod through whatever her father proposed, as he always did.

"Klaus drove us from Rome, chased us out of Italy, ransacked our homes, perverted our _res publica_ , and we are going to _pay_ him? For the bodies of our friends who he murdered? The bodies that he has no legal or moral right to hold hostage?" Donovan's voice rose with fury as he spoke, and by the time he finished he was almost shouting, "Does our honor and dignity as Romans not demand that we retaliate, rather than reward him?"

"How else do you suggest that we recover the bodies, colleague?"

"I say we send a small band of men into his camp at night, butcher everyone they come across, locate the bodies and retrieve them," Donovan uttered, "And if so lucky they are that they come across Klaus himself, skin him like an animal!"

_Maybe losing Jeremy made something in him snap._

"I understand you are grieving, colleague," Her father replied, "and I appreciate your passion. But your proposal is not practical. If we want to recover our dead and give them the burial they deserve, we must give the renegade what he wants."

"And what about justice?" Donovan hissed, "What about making the renegade pay for every crime he has committed against Rome and the Gods?"

"We will serve justice and exact our revenge by winning the war," Her father tried to placate Donovan but the other man saw nothing but red.

"You are right, Consul. My suggestion was not practical," Donovan said with an unnerving glint in his eyes, "But we still have Klaus' daughter. We should cut off her head and send it to him in a box. Tell him that if he wants the rest of his daughter back, he should return our dead to us first."

A few legates seemed disturbingly keen at the idea and Josie balled her hand into a fist, ready to defend Hope.

"That's enough, _Senator._ " Her father beat her to it in a tone that brooked no room for argument, "We are not killing Klaus' daughter. His crimes are not hers. We will proceed with negotiations, and no one is to harm Hope of the Mikaelsons. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal clear, Consul." Donovan acceded, but something in his tone unnerved Josie.

_Donovan isn't done. He will try to hurt Hope._

Josie vowed to herself that she will not let it happen.

* * *

"Dear Anna," Alaric wrote, remembering when Jeremy introduced her.

They had met in Antioch, he said, and decided to travel together. They crossed the coast of Syria and Judea, admiring cities and towns they passed through until they were standing in front of the Library of Alexandria.

Somewhere along the way, they fell in love.

Jeremy spoke of Anna's love for art and poetry, and Anna listed Jeremy's quirks with a fond look in her eyes. They dined and shared stories from their travels with the twins over wine, laughing as they recounted how Jeremy had fallen off a dock once and found himself tangled up in a fisherman's net.

Alaric gripped the pen so hard he thought it might snap.

"I-"

_I'm sorry to tell you? I regret to inform you? I have terrible news?_

"Who's Caroline?"

Alaric froze.

"Josie?" A sinking feeling too hold in his stomach, "Where did you hear that name?"

"From you, father. You told Klaus, 'Caroline would be ashamed.' Who is she?"

Alaric recalled the moment - heat rushing to his head, overwhelming his senses, painting his visions re and screaming at him to draw his _gladius_ and drive it through Klaus' heart. Klaus knew exactly how to hurt him, how to fill him with so much anger that his control melted away in an instant - and he gave in to that anger. It was only for a moment, but the damage was done.

"Caroline-"

Alaric hesitated. He wasn't sure who he was protecting anymore. The twins? Caroline? Her mother? Himself? Or was keeping the secret just muscle memory after 22 years?

"That is a story for another time." He decided and quickly changed the topic, "Where is your sister?"

"She's still with Landon, I think," Josie noticed the items on the table, "Are you writing something?"

"Well, yes," He glanced at the piece of parchment, "We have to let Anna know what happened."

"Oh." Sorrow and sympathy overtook Josie's face, "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay, sweetheart, I just-" Words caught in his throat, "How do I tell Anna? How do I tell her that her husband is not coming home and her child will never know their father? Every word I come up with sounds hollow." Alaric looked at Josie, his eyes glittering, "What do I say to her?"

"Tell Anna," Josie grasped his shoulder tightly, "Tell Anna that it doesn't matter if it takes a day or a hundred years. Klaus will pay for what he's done."

* * *

[i] Single combat was not uncommon during early Roman history. It was a tremendous honor for a commander to slay the enemy commander in a duel, but it became rarer as time went on. Historically, it was virtually unheard of by this point.

[ii] The _Catabri_ and the _Astures_ were the last free peoples of pre-Roman Hispania, both Celts. Historically, they were warrior tribes and resisted the Romans fiercely. They remained independent until the early imperial era, when the Romans subdued them in a bloody war that took ten years and some 50,000 troops.

[iii] Roman centurions rotated their ranks to ensure the frontline was always held by fresh troops while the enemy tired.

[iv] The _praemium_ was the one-time pension paid to legionnaires at retirement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was listening to the Rains of Castamere when I wrote the last three chapters.
> 
> Poor Jeremy. I promise his death won't be one of those ones that get completely forgotten in a few chapters. It will have a profound impact on our characters and the choices they make going forward.
> 
> Klaus is a monster. TO did a lot of whitewashing and got to the point where they stopped giving a fuck about innocent people being killed. He wasn't just a monster and he did have redeeming qualities that people like Hope, Caroline, Rebekah etc. brought out, and he found salvation in the end, but he did a lot of terrible things, mostly for no reason other than sadism, and I intend to reflect that in my portrayal of him. Klaus won't be a cartoonish villain in this story. He has his own motivations and reasonings for the things he's done that will become apparent later, but none of it will justify or whitewash what he's done. Alaric and Klaus won't ever go all buddy-buddy like Hobbs and Shaw.
> 
> Trivia TIme
> 
> Roman legionnaires expected a proper burial should they fall in battle. When the Romans located the site of the Battle of Teutoburg Forest years later, they gathered the remains of their dead, which had been lying in the open until then, and buried them.


	9. i wanna take you somewhere but it's so cold and i don't know where

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josie and Hope have a talk that's long overdue.

Klaus' envoy was a legate by the name Jackson Kenner. Jackson was tall with a muscular frame, and Josie could feel how calloused his palms were when they shook hands. He was courteous and formal, and carried himself with an air of solemnity that told Josie he was a veteran of the legion.

It was not difficult to see why Klaus had sent Jackson to treat with them. The legate's voice never betrayed any hint of emotion, and his expression was always serious and flat. But Josie had spent enough time around Dorian to be able to tell uncomfortable from grim.

"Your commander has ten bodies. We think 600 pounds of gold - the equivalent of fifteen soldiers' _praemia_ \- is more than generous." Damon had offered, and Jackson looked as if he was holding back a grimace when he shot it down.

"A praetorian is paid twice a legionnaire's pension," the legate had said, "and we hold the bodies of six praetorians and four nobles. They cannot be counted as ten ordinary legionnaires. His Excellency believes that 2,000 pounds of gold is a fair ask."

"I cannot pay him 2,000 pounds of gold even if I wanted to," Her father had said, "We barely have enough money to cover the men's pay through spring as is. Tell Klaus' legate we can go up to 800."

They offered just that, and Jackson, unsurprisingly, shot it down, insisting on 2,000. After another day of haggling that ended without progress, the two sides agreed negotiations should recess for a day.

"Fell just fished 12th legion's standard out of the sea. What if we offered Klaus his eagle back in exchange for the bodies?" Said Damon.[i]

"And give him a major moral victory?" Her father looked skeptical, "I think not."

"We could melt it down," Josie suggested, "and offer him the gold instead. Klaus will not even know that we had his eagle to begin with."

"I was hoping to tell our men that we captured one of Klaus' standards. Improve their morale. But the impact on morale would be far more profound if we don't get the bodies back," Her father conceded, "Let's do it."

In the end, they were able to put together an offer of 1,200 pounds of gold with substantial contributions from Senators desperate for their sons' return.

Jackson looked almost regretful when he shook his head, "I am afraid that His Excellency is the most adamant that 2,000 pounds of gold must be paid for the return of the bodies. However, seeing as _parts_ of the bodies," Jackson's grimace was barely concealed, "are already in your possession, His Excellency agrees that it would be improper to ask for the price in full. He is therefore willing to release the bodies for only 1,600 pounds of gold."

"No." Josie steeled her voice, her anger rising, "We want the bodies back, and we are willing to be generous, but we will not be extorted. 1,200 pounds of gold is our final offer. If your commander thinks he can find a better offer elsewhere then he is welcome to refuse."

Jackson took a long pause. His expression was typically impassive, but there was a storm of emotions swirling in his eyes, telling Josie that he was torn. Finally, he broke the silence.

"On behalf of His Excellency Niklaus Mikaelson, I accept your offer."

* * *

They made the exchange the next day at noon.

Josie examined the bodies while Landon heaved the last chest of gold into the tent. Jackson knelt in front of one of the chests and flipped it open. He nodded, and a pair of praetorians carried it away.

Klaus' praetorians, Josie noted, wore purple capes.

"That was the last of the gold," Josie turned to Jackson, "I trust everything is in order?"

Jackson nodded.

"Our business is finished then."

"If I may, Lady Josette," Josie turned to leave, Jackson made to reach for her arm, and Landon's hand flew to the hilt of his blade, prompting Jackson to step back, putting his hands up in surrender, "I mean you no harm. I only want to talk. You have my word."

"Klaus' word is worth as much as the dirt on my boots," Landon placed himself between them and made no move to take his hand off his sword.

"I am not Klaus."

"Someone who would serve a man without honor has none himself."

Jackson flinched like someone punched him in the gut. He quickly covered it up, but Josie saw it all the same, and that made her trust him, at least not to run a sword through her as soon as Landon stepped away.

"It's okay," She gestured to Landon to stand down. Her bodyguard stepped away but stayed close behind her.

"I was hoping we could speak alone," Jackson looked at Landon pointedly.

Landon stayed put and Josie ignored Jackson's request entirely.

"Do you wish to surrender?" She said instead.

"Not quite."

"Then I am not sure what business we have to discuss."

"Hope."

The sound of Hope's name sent a shudder down Josie's spine. She forced herself to remain composed and not let any emotions slip past her mask of impassivity.

"What about her?"

"I hear you have her prisoner."

Josie kept her voice steady. "You hear correct."

"I also hear that your father is a man of honor," Jackson eyed her carefully, "and that he treats everyone who crosses path with dignity. No matter who they are."

"My father does believe in honor," Josie held Jackson's gaze, "But I know not what you have heard exactly."

"The men who served under him in Spain said that he treats his men with compassion and respect, that he allows them letters from home, and that he affords his prisoners the same courtesies he does his soldiers," Jackson produced a letter from the sleeve of his armor. "Have I been misinformed?"

"It is possible, if the men told you that right before your commander murdered them." Josie crossed her arms, "I hear that people are sometimes not truthful with their murderer. Unless, of course, I have been misinformed."

Jackson looked distinctly uncomfortable.

"I suppose passing on a letter is not an unreasonable request." Josie unfolded her arms and took Jackson's letter, and a small spark glinted in the legate's eyes fleetingly, "Though it is risky. The letter could contain information that we may not want a prisoner to have. We could read it, certainly, but the information could be coded, and we would be none the wiser. Unless, of course, I was convinced that your intentions were not subversive."

"And how might you be convinced?" A hint of desperation crept into Jackson's voice and Josie held back a grin.

"It would go a long way if I knew why you stand with Klaus."

"I swore an oath to my commander."

"You also swore an oath to the _res publica,_ " Josie said the words at a deliberately slow pace, her eyes never leaving Jackson's while her fingers toyed with the envelope. Resignation crossed Jackson's face, and Josie knew she had him.

"Years ago, I was charged to take a company of men to conduct a tax survey in Crete. We were attacked and taken hostage. Klaus saved our lives." Jackson answered, "I am not naive enough to believe that it is never necessary to fight war with savagery - war is savagery. But what we did to your father's men in Spain - what we did to Jeremy Gilbert, it was not necessary. It was dishonorable. But I owe Klaus my life, and it would be more dishonorable still to betray him."[ii]

Josie pondered for a moment. She didn't trust Jackson despite his claims of honor - she didn't trust anyone who would stand by Klaus. But whether she trusted Jackson was secondary. He was a senior officer in Klaus' army, one who held his confidence, and she would be foolish to ignore that. If Jackson was sincere, then she could try to appeal to his conscience; and even if he wasn't, he clearly cared for Hope. She could use that.

Josie felt nauseous at how quick she was to think of Hope as a tool. She pushed it aside and nodded at Jackson. It was time to pay her favorite redhead a visit.

* * *

Josie found Hope how she did the first time she visited - lying on her palliasse with her eyes closed, offering no acknowledgment of the brunette's presence.

"I brought wine," Josie made herself comfortable on the ground and counted a victory when Hope joined her without being prodded. She filled two goblets and silently handed one to Hope.

The auburn-haired woman took a sip, and her eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"You got contraband?

"Not exactly," Josie let out a small laugh, "A merchant came across camp a while ago. We agreed to pay him a good price for his wine in exchange for information. I snagged us a bottle before Damon could requisition it all for himself."

Hope took another sip and made a satisfied sound, "By Bacchus, I've forgotten what good wine tastes like."[iii]

"I'm glad you like it," It was silly to feel happy about that, but after the events of the past week, Josie felt no victory was too small to celebrate, "It's my favorite. My father had a cellar full of it back in Rome. He'd let us raid it when we were younger - me, Lizzie-" Josie's words caught in her throat, "-and Jeremy."

Hope stayed quiet, offering no I'm sorry or are you okay. Then she gulped all the wine down and shot onto her feet, grim but determined.

"There's something I want to show you," Hope moved to the easel and threw off the cloth covering it.

Josie's eyes followed Hope to the panel and she gasped.

"You paint, alright."

"One of my passions."

It was a painting of a young woman on horseback. She had long, free-flowing red mane the shade of autumn's leaves, brushed over one side of her shoulder, obscuring much of her neck. One of her cheeks was almost entirely hidden from view, the other cheek has a pink tinge on it. Her lips were parted slightly as if in awe. It was Hope. And her eyes- her blue eyes were swirling with a storm of emotions. Reverence, devotion, longing, desire, lov- Josie followed painting-Hope's eyes to another young woman on horseback. Her brown curls, just past her shoulder, were dancing in the wind. Her eyes - a warm shade of brown - were glimmering with happiness, like she didn't have a worry in the world. Sunlight - bright and golden - glistened on her skin like diamonds. The sheen on her skin, brilliant may it be, was overshadowed by the smile that adorned her face - brighter than the sun itself, full and genuine. It was Josie, sitting tall on her horse, beautiful and confident like a goddess.

_Like a goddess._

Josie's heart fluttered frantically, her throat suddenly dry.

_Is this how Hope sees me?_

"Did you know that horses are the opposite of people?"

"Oh?"

"They are loyal," Hope looked at her so softly that Josie almost shivered. Her voice was tender and sincere, and it reminded Josie of just how young Hope was all at once, "People aren't. Except for you. You are loyal. And beautiful. And brilliant. And you have this incredible capacity for compassion and that makes you more powerful than you know," Hope's eyes shined and Josie's treacherous heart thumped furiously, "What I'm trying to say is that I admire you. And I wish I had met you sooner."

Josie's breath caught in her throat. Suddenly, she became aware of how close they were. Josie could feel Hope's hot breath on her face and she thought she should say something. That she felt the same way. That she admired Hope too and she wished she had met her sooner. But how could she summon the words from her throat when Hope was gazing at her with those impossibly blue eyes?

Josie never wanted to look away. Not when Hope was so close. Not when Josie wanted to be even closer. Not when she could tilt her head down ever so slightly and taste those cherry red lips. Josie wet her lips without thinking, the temptation of Hope's lips the only thing on her mind. She inched closer at the same time Hope pulled away. The other woman took a step back, ran a hair through her auburn mane, and cleared her throat, her face pink.

"I want you to have it, the painting. So you have something to remember me by after I'm gone."

Josie's face was warm - she was sure her cheeks were red, as much as she was sure her eyes were dark with want as they moved away from Hope's cherry red lips to her sky blue eyes. Josie couldn't help the teasing grin that stretched across her entire face.

"After you are gone? You are not planning to escape, are you?"

"How cruel to joke about escape with a woman who's about to be executed, Josie," Hope chuckled, "But I'll forgive you since you are here to send me off with the nice wine."

Incredulity overcame Josie and a laugh escaped her throat, "I thought we were past this, Hope."

Hope's eyebrows scrunched together in confusion, "My father killed someone close to your father. He must kill me in retaliation."[iv]

"For the hundredth time," Josie fought the urge to roll her eyes, "You are not being executed."

_What must I do to convince you that I will never let anything bad happen to you, Hope? I lo-_

"But the hostages-"

"You are _not_ being executed." Josie repeated more firmly, "I will not let it happen. I _will_ protect you. I swear to it on my life."

"No, don't- Please don't ever do that again."

"Do what again? Promise to protect you?"

"Don't swear on your life for me, Jo. You are a good person, and I'm not. I'm not worth it-"

Anger came rushing to Josie's head. Not at Hope. Never at Hope, but at her wretched father for doing so many terrible things that Hope - beautiful, kind, loyal Hope, more than just the traitor's daughter, a girl who liked art and horses - thought she was anything but pure and good, that she deserved anything less than the world.

"I'm going to stop you right there," Josie gave Hope a hard look, "You are a good person, Hope. Because only a good person would read to Pedro and help him write to his mother. Only a good person would draw me that picture and tell me I'm beautiful and brilliant and powerful. Only a good person would have the empathy and honor to feel guilty for her father's actions, even though she could not have known or prevented them. Josie's face softened and she reached for Hope's hand, intertwining their fingers, "And most importantly, you are worth it, Hope. Never say you are not again. You are worth it to me."

"Do you mean that?"

Tears were streaming down Hope's pink cheeks and Josie wiped them away, caressing Hope's face gently with the back of her thumb.

"Every word." A pause, "And no more talking about your death. I forbid it."

Hope half-sobbed, half-chuckled, and wiped more tears from her face.

"I know your father didn't send you here to befriend me, Josie. I know you were just playing me at first. I was too," Hope joined their hands again, glistening blue bore into brown, and Josie saw so many emotions that her head spun - fear, trust, hope, longing. Showing vulnerability was a big no for Hope, and the fact that the auburn-haired woman was doing it so openly surprised Josie, "I thought I could gain your confidence and perhaps a way out of here. Then I got to know the incredible person you are, and you became more - so much more to me than just a means to an end. You are the light in my darkness, Josette."

Josie felt hope creeping into her chest. Could this be it? Is Hope finally ready to turn on her father? Will she and Hope no longer have to be on opposite sides of the war? Maybe they can even be more than just fr-

Hope took a deep breath, "When I heard about what my father did in Gaul, I told myself, 'he didn't have a choice.' The Gauls were barbarians, the only language they spoke was violence. He had to truly break them for them to accept that they were conquered. Then I heard about what he did in Spain, and again, I told myself, 'he didn't have a choice.' Those men were sworn to his enemies. They would have taken up arms against him again if he just left them be. But when I heard about what he did to your friend, I couldn't tell myself he didn't have a choice anymore, because he did." Tears fell from Hope's eyes, "It was dishonorable and unnecessary and my father did it only because he wanted to. That's what he does. He hurts people not because he has to, but because he wants to."

More tears streaked down Hope's cheeks, "I knew. Of course I knew, I was not stupid. But I was blind, because he was my father and I didn't want to believe that he was a monster. I can no longer delude myself, and I want to help you, truly, because you don't deserve what he'll do to you if he wins. I want to protect you the way you have protected me, Josie, and my father has shown that he sees me as nothing more than just another pawn to be used and discarded." Hope looked anguished, like she loathed herself for what she was about to say, "But still, I cannot bring myself to betray him even though I want to. Our family words may mean nothing to him, but they mean something to me, even though it's more loyalty than he deserves. I'm sorry, Jo."

There wasn't a war separating her and Hope. They were traveling together and seeing everything the world had to offer - the Library of Alexandria, the Pantheon of Athens, the Temple of Apollo of Syracuse. It was the life Josie had dreamed of since she met Hope, and it had never felt closer. Then it slipped away, barely an inch from her fingertip and Josie felt as if something heavy had struck her stomach. The world shattered around Josie and grief for a future that could have been, a future that now never would be overtook her. But this wasn't the time for grief. No, Hope needed her and Josie steeled herself and looked into Hope's eyes with as much sincerity as she could muster.

"I don't blame you, Hope. I understand devotion to family, I'd do anything for my father and Lizzie. You will turn on your father at your own timing or you won't at all. Either way, I won't force you. The war will not come between us, I promise."

Hope looked at her disbelieving for a second, then flung her arms around Josie. Josie held her tightly and they stood there for a long time. She would hold Hope in her arms all day if she could, but she did have to go.

Reluctantly, she pulled away.

"I am glad we talked, Hope," said Josie, "and we will talk more, I promise. But I must go now - we are holding a service for Jeremy. I only meant to check on you first."

"Can I- Would it be presumptuous of me to ask if I may come to the funeral?"

_Isn't this day just full of surprises?_

"You want to come to the funeral?"

"My father murdered him. I know I couldn't have prevented his death, but I can't help but feel responsible in some way," Hope squeezed Josie's hand, "And I know he was important to you and I want to be there for you." A slight hesitation, "If that's something you want too."

"I assure you it is," Warmth filled Josie's chest. She smiled and squeezed Hope's hand back. "Wait here."

The brunette left the tent and returned minutes later with a tall red cloak.

"Put this on," She instructed, "Make sure you keep the hood up. Tyler Lockwood was a chariot driver for the Whites. That made him popular among our Italian rank and file who might not take to your presence kindly."

Josie gave Hope a once-over. The cloak fit her snuggly and the auburn-haired woman seemed pleased.

_Someone looks good._

Josie ran her tongue across her lips.

"Stay close to me and don't let anyone see your face."

* * *

Lizzie felt Landon fall in next to her. He stood by her in silence, and Lizzie was grateful that he didn't try to start a conversation.

She was staring - she wasn't exactly sure at what. The crowd, perhaps, or the hill in the distance. Or maybe she wasn't staring at anything. Maybe she was just staring at the empty space ahead of her. Either way, she thought it couldn't have been terribly exciting to stand next to her, but Landon hadn't complained, so Lizzie figured he must not have minded.

The service wasn't due to start just yet, but Lizzie was restless. She had been restless all morning and decided she might as well come here. Her nervous energy subsided after she got out of the confined space of her tent, and she was glad that she found a quiet spot for herself before the crowd started piling in.

"How many people do you think there are?"

"A hundred or so, I imagine," Landon replied, "There would have been even more, but your father didn't want too many people here. The men are angry and grieving, and he was worried there might be trouble if the crowd was any larger."

"Jeremy would really hate that," Lizzie said, "then again, Jeremy isn't here. Who's to say what he thinks even matters?"

There was an unintended amount of bitterness on her tongue. Lizzie felt angry. She knew it wasn't Jeremy's fault that he was gone, but still, he left her. He left her when he was supposed to stick around and watch her fall in love and get married and have children with beautiful blonde hair and blue eyes like a big brother was supposed to. She was angry at Jeremy for dying and at Klaus murdering him. But she was even angrier at herself. Jeremy had always been there for her. He protected her more times than Lizzie could count, but where the fuck was she when he needed her? For once in his life, Jeremy needed someone to protect him and Lizzie should have been there. She should have saved him from Klaus but she didn't. Jeremy died alone and scared all because she was not strong enough.

Logically, Lizzie knew it was not true, that there was nothing she could have done to save Jeremy. But Lizzie cared very little for logic in that moment, only her anger and grief. Lizzie vowed she would be strong from now on. She vowed that she will not lose Josie the way she lost Jeremy. She will protect her twin.

Landon cleared his throat.

"I know I cannot replace Jeremy, nor will I try," he said sincerely, "But you did well in our last few sessions, and I'm happy to officially take over your training."

"Because you have been doing it unofficially for two weeks now?" Lizzie gave a small laugh, "Sure, bird boy. You _are_ my bodyguard."

"Then you might as well call me Landon."

Lizzie looked at him, "Are you sure being so familiar with a lady won't break your soldierly brain?"

Landon rolled his eyes, "No more than holding your snark will break yours, Elizabeth."

A smile tugged at Lizzie's lips.

* * *

"We cannot choose when we depart from this world, that is up to the Gods. But we can choose to act with honor and dignity. To stay true to our ideals and live in accordance with our principles to the best of our ability. And to leave our mark on the people around us. Jeremy certainly did. He was courageous and never flinched in the face of danger. He was also compassionate and genuine. He treated everyone he crossed paths with, friends or subordinates, with kindness and respect. All of us here can attest to that. He was a true Roman, and we will honor him by fighting for the ideals that he believed in, the ideals that he gave his life for."

Her father drew the crowd's attention with his presence and held it with his profoundness. The atmosphere was grim, but it seemed to be uplifted somewhat by the time he finished. Her father asked for a minute of silence, and Lizzie put her head down. Other speakers followed. Damon spoke briefly, as did a Senator and a few legionnaires. Then, Donovan walked to the center of the gathering in large strides.

"I thank you for coming here today to honor my friend. Jeremy was a good man, and he deserved to be remembered." Donovan began, "What befell him was a terrible fate, to be butchered like some animal, to be buried in a strange land, to be commemorated at this pitiful gathering. No, he deserved better. He deserved to go home to his wife and meet his child. He deserved a long and happy life, one that he was robbed of by the traitor Klaus. He deserved justice." Donovan's eyes locked with her father's and his tone took a sharp turn, "But our _General_ would have us stand in this dirt and talk non-sense when we have the traitor's daughter right here in our midst. I say we tear her apart and send her head to her traitor father. What do you say, soldiers!"

The crowd roared. It was deafening. Lizzie reached for her dagger, but her palm was damp from sweat, and her hand was shaking. The blade slipped from her trembling fingers and Lizzie watched it fall in an almost-comedic slow-motion. She thought that she should pick it back up, but there was no time.

Faintly, she could hear Josie's frantic cries for Landon.

Landon must have heard them too because he took her arm firmly and hurried in the direction of Josie's voice.

"Make way for the praetorian cohort! Make way for the praetorian cohort!" Landon shouted, shoving his way through the crowd. His hand was on the hilt of his blade, and Lizzie tried her best not to lose sight of him.

"Landon!"

She could hear Josie clearly now. Lizzie elbowed past a few bodies and saw her sister's face light up with relief at the sight of Landon.

Hope had a red cloak covering her face, but people were starting to notice who she was. Neither she nor Josie had a weapon to defend themselves with, and Landon scanned through the faces around them in alarm.

"We need to go now." He said urgently and took Hope's arm, "Stay close."

A ring had formed around them, and the four of them tried to push through it and make a beeline for Josie's tent, but the crowd around them was dense, and progress was slow. Suddenly, they came to a halt, and Lizzie could see a legionnaire glowering over Landon with open hostility.

"Step aside, soldier." Landon barked, one of his hands on Hope's arm and the other on the hilt of his blade.

The man sneered. "That's the traitor's daughter."

"She is under the General's protection," Landon stood his ground, so did the legionnaire.

"Fuck the General!" He spat at the ground, "Give her to me!"

"This is your last warning, soldier. Step aside immediately."

Landon stared him down. The legionnaire looked almost afraid for a moment, his eyes moving from Landon to Hope and back to Landon. Then a scoff overcame his hesitation, and he reached for his blade, but Landon was faster. Before anyone could blink, Landon had punched him square in the face. The man went down with a thud, clutching his bleeding nose, and Landon turned back around.

Lizzie released a shuddering breath that she didn't know she was holding.

"Out of the way!" He bellowed. The crowd looked at him in apprehension, but they seemed more angry than afraid.

"Watch out!" Josie screamed, and something heavy slammed into Lizzie before she could turn around.

A large man was on top of her with a dagger raised. Lizzie reached for her own blade, only to remember with a start that she had lost it. Adrenaline pumped through her veins and Lizzie brought up her arms to shield her face as the man struck. The sharp tip of the dagger stopped mere inches from her eye and Lizzie could feel the soldier's strength as he pushed against her. Lizzie pushed back with everything she had, her arms straining. The tip was barely a dot at first, then it became larger and larger as the dagger edged closer and closer until it was almost on her vision and Lizzie pushed as hard as she could but she was scared and her arms were tiring and the soldier was relentless and-

-and the man gave a strangled cry and rolled over beside her, dead. She looked up just in time to see Landon extend his arm to her, his _gladius_ dripping in red.

"Come on, Elizabeth." He pulled her back on her feet just as another man lunged at them. Lizzie dodged reflexively, and Landon plunged his _gladius_ into the attacker's abdomen. Landon ripped his blade out with a violent jerk, and the man dropped, moaning in pain. Lizzie picked up the second assailant's dagger, and the mob closed in around them, radiating hostility.

"You remember what I taught you?" Landon spared a glance at her as Josie and Hope fell in next to them.

He sounded as calm as he always did, but Lizzie detected a small hint of fear in his voice. Lizzie remembered what her father once told her, that to be brave was not to be without fear, but to overcome it, and she tried to be as brave as Landon was. A Roman was not supposed to show fear to her enemies. A Roman was supposed to look upon death with a smile but Lizzie's heart was racing and she could barely keep her voice from trembling. She closed her eyes and hoped her father would be proud of her for trying to face death bravely.

"Guess we are about to find out."

Somebody shouted and Lizzie braced herself for an attack. Strange enough, none came. More words were shouted and Lizzie blinked, realizing that the voice came from Josie rather than the mob.

Lizzie couldn't understand what her sister was shouting until she realized the words weren't Latin. Josie always had a gift for linguistics. Lizzie less so, but she had heard enough conversations between her father and his Spanish soldiers to make out the Iberian words Spaniards and me.[v]

Soon enough, the mob parted and a dozen soldiers pushed through, armed with daggers and _gladii,_ looking at her sister expectantly. Josie shouted more commands, and the soldiers formed up a protective arc in front of them. Slowly, they began marching at the mob.

"Make way for the praetorian cohort!" Landon shouted. His voice was steady, but Lizzie could sense his trepidation as they came to a stop once again in front of the mob. The blonde tightened her grip on her dagger.

The mob and their new Spanish protectors stared at each other down. Then, one by one, the mob stepped aside and a small gap opened for them to pass through. Lizzie didn't let herself relax, not yet. They stepped through the mob slowly and cautiously until clearing came up in front of them, and Lizzie finally released a shuddering breath.

She turned to her sister in relief, "Looks like we are sa-"

A projectile whipped past Lizzie. The blonde's eyes widened in horror when she realized that it was a _pilum_ , and it was headed straight for her sister. Then, Hope threw herself in front of Josie at the last second and the _pilum_ sank into her.

* * *

[i]  Since the late republican era, each legion had a single standard – an eagle made of gold. There was no greater disgrace for a legion than losing its standard, and no greater dishonor for Rome than having a standard captured, and the Romans always went through great lengths to recover lost standards.

[ii]  In addition to combat, policing and engineering, Roman legionnaires routinely performed administrative duties since the bureaucracy was always too small to administer such a massive empire, even after undergoing a drastic expansion after the 3rd century crisis. In fact, the legion was by far the largest component of the Roman state, and often the only large enough source of manpower Emperors and governors had at their disposal.

[iii]  _Bacchus,_ also known as _Liber,_ was the Roman God of Wine. His Greek equivalent was _Dionysus._

[iv]  Roman culture placed great importance on revenge.

[v]  The Iberian language was spoken by the native people of pre-Roman _Hispania,_ along the Mediterranean coast of the peninsula. It became extinct during the imperial era.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope is alive. Or is she? One way to find out!
> 
> If you guys are looking to learn more about the Romans, I cannot recommend Tom Holland's Rubicon enough. It's a captivating account of the turbulent years that led to the destruction of the Roman Republic, and covers the events leading up to the period this story is set in, as well as the ones that came after. It was my first book about the Romans and I've been hooked ever since.
> 
> Have you guys listened to Folklore? I've been singing exile non-stop for days now.
> 
> This story has been my singular focus for the past month and half and I'm grateful to all of you who have read it and left comments that honestly keep me going. But I need to take some time now to recharge my batteries and focus more on other things in my life, so unfortunately I will be able to update every other day anymore. Fear not though, because I will still be posting new chapters as often as I can, probably once every few days, and I will try my best to have a new chapter up at least every week.
> 
> Your support, as always, means the world to me, and I'd love it if you could leave a kudo and a comment. Remember a happy author means more frequent updates!
> 
> Until next time!
> 
> Trivia Time
> 
> Symbolism was attached to color in Rome. Although every citizen had the right to wear a toga, only Senators were allowed to wear a red sash with their toga. Likewise, officers in the legion wore red plumes on their helmets as well as a red cape. Purple, however, was even more exclusive than red. During the republican era, Consuls wore purple capes when commanding an army to distinguish themselves. During the imperial era, purple would become implicitly associated with the throne, and only Emperors themselves were allowed to wear purple. It has been suggested that the praetorian cohorts wore either a purple or white cloak to symbolize their imperial status.


	10. haven't we been on the backfoot long enough?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope's life hangs in the balance while Josie devises a plan to seize the initiative from Klaus.

They burst into Josie's tent with a barely-conscious Hope. Josie had wrapped an around the auburn-haired woman tightly on their way back and refused to let go. She wouldn't. She couldn't. Not after Hope took a _pilum_ for her. Not when Hope might die because of her.

_I just lost Jeremy, I can't lose Hope too._

"Help me lay her down!" She cried, and Landon took hold of Hope's other arm. Together, they lowered her onto the palliasse gently and Josie knelt down next to Hope, muttering a quick prayer.

_Please, Pluto, don't take Hope just yet._

"Are you okay?" She asked, running a hand through Hope's hair. Her fingers came away stained with blood and a wave of nausea washed over Josie.

Hope moaned in pain.

"Soldier!" Landon beckoned one of their Spaniard escorts over, "What is your name?"

"Legionnaire Milton Greasly, sir." A young, dark-skinned Spaniard saluted.

"Legionnaire Greasly, go fetch the physician." Landon ordered, "The rest of you, stand guard outside and allow no one but the General himself through."

Josie barely registered the chorus of yes sirs that followed as the legionnaires hurried outside. All she could think about was Hope. Beautiful, kind, loyal Hope, who likes to paint and sail and ride horses, who wants to travel the world and admire all its marvels, who deserves to live a long and happy life, not become just another casualty in this wretched war, one of her own father's making.

A few minutes later, the flops flew open and the physician rushed in.

"Jupiter Maximus Optimus!" The physician almost gasped at the sight of a wooden shaft protruding from Hope's shoulder, "What happened to her?"

"Meredith! Thank the Gods you are here!" Lizzie exclaimed in relief, "We were attacked by a mob earlier. Hope took a _pilum_ for Josie."

"Josie?" Meredith approached her, her voice full of sympathy, "I need you to take a step back so I can examine Hope. Can you do that for me?"

_I'm not leaving Hope!_

Josie's first reaction was to refuse. How could she leave Hope when she was hurt, and it was because of her? A no was on her tongue but Josie paused. She glanced at the auburn-haired woman, who looked no bigger than a child as she curled up on the palliasse with a _pilum_ embedded in her shoulder. Her face pale, and her lips were trembling, her eyes barely open. She couldn't help Hope, only Meredith could.

"She's shivering!" Josie realized with a start, and reluctantly let Meredith nudge her out of the way. The brown-haired physician immediately began examining the wound.

"Has she lost a lot of blood?"

Josie shook her head, then realized that Meredith was facing away from her. "No, I don't think so."

"That's good," Meredith replied and beckoned at Landon, "Come on, help me pull the _pilum_ out."

Landon grabbed the shaft with both his hands and, with a nod from Meredith, pulled it from Hope's shoulder as gently as he could. Hope moaned in pain, and it was as if a fist closed around Josie's heart and squeezed hard.

A spurt of blood burst out of Hope's wound as Landon pulled the _pilum_ out, and Josie's heart plunged. A shockwave of fear shot through Josie and her lips parted, trembling. But before panicked words could dart from her tongue, Meredith sprung into action. The brown-haired physician quickly pressed a piece of rag over the wound and discarded it for another when it became soaked with blood. She repeated the process again, and but the blood kept coming and Meredith soon had to replace yet another rag.

"Centurion," Meredith jerked her head at Landon, "Take over for me and press on her wound. Change the rag when it's soaked."

The urgency in Meredith's tone made Josie's heart sink.

"What's happening?"

"She's losing a lot of blood and I can't stop the bleeding," Meredith rummaged through her pouch with hurried fingers, "At this rate, she'll bleed out before long."

_No._

_No._

_No. No. No. No. No._

Josie's froze. Meredith's words ringing in her head and a sudden burst of fear exploded in her chest and Josie stumbled back, feeling faint. Luckily, her sister was quick to steady her.

_Please, Pluto. Not Hope. Take me if you must. But not Hope. Anyone but Hope. Please._

Josie could feel herself hyperventilating, she was shaking and gasping and struggling to breathe and she couldn't think because her head was spinning and she couldn't see because tears were obscuring her vision and the world was falling away from around her- no she was falling away from the world and it was cold and dark and she was alone and scared and she couldn't see and she couldn't breathe and-

"You can save her, right?" Lizzie was right by Josie's ear, still holding onto her, but Josie felt her sister's voice was a thousand miles away. It was so faint, so distant.

"I'm going to cauterize her wound," Meredith was holding a bottle of clear liquid in her hand. She quickly uncapped it, then pulled a dagger from her pouch and rinsed it with the liquid, "It'll stop the bleeding and I can make sure the wound isn't infected."

Meredith's words pulled Josie out of her trance. She inhaled sharply and deeply, drawing oxygen into her lungs until they were full and she could breathe again.

"Keep pressure on her wound," Meredith instructed Landon, then walked to the small fire in Josie's tent and held the dagger in the flames until the metal began to glow red.

Meredith pulled the blade out without delay.

"Centurion, stay," Her eyes moved from Landon to Josie, "The rest of you need to go."

_No._

"No." 

"Come on, Jo," She felt Lizzie trying to pull away from the tent, away from Hope- Josie violently tore her arm out of her sister's grip.

"No. I'm not leaving Hope."

Lizzie tried to steer her away again, but Josie jerked her arm away from her sister. No, she was adamant. She was _not_ leaving Hope. Beautiful, kind, loyal Hope with long red manes and gorgeous blue eyes-

"Josie," Meredith was looking at her with dead serious eyes, "Hope is going to die."

Josie felt she had just been punched in the gut. The oxygen was knocked out of her lungs and she opened her mouth, her eyes wide with fear.

"I thought you could save her-" Her voice was shaking.

"I can't save her if you don't let me do my job, Josette. The more time you waste arguing with me, the more blood Hope loses, and the more likely she will die even if I stop the bleeding. Is that what you want?" Meredith's eyes softened slightly, a hint of sympathy slipping through her physician stoic, "I know you want to help Hope, but the best thing you can do for her is to give me the space I need to work on her."

Josie nodded faintly and let Lizzie lead her toward the exit.

"On my mark, remove the rag from her wound," Meredith approached Hope with the dagger in her hand, the red glow had faded from the metal, "Now!"

Lizzie pulled Josie out of the tent just as Meredith thrust the flat of the dagger onto Hope's wound.

Hope screamed.

* * *

Lizzie glanced at her sister.

Josie's eyes were closed and she was muttering prayers to Apollo, Pluto, Jupiter- any deity that would listen.

Her face was pale and her lips were trembling and Lizzie couldn't remember the last time she saw Josie this scared. She couldn't remember if she ever saw Josie praying so fervently either.

Lizzie didn't think she would ever stop being amazed by the effect Hope of the Mikaelsons had on her sister.

_Is this what love looks like?_

A pair of green eyes popped into Lizzie's mind and she shook her head.

"How is the situation out here?" She asked one of their Spanish protectors - Milton, his name was.

"Chaotic, ma'am," Milton said, "A riot broke out after Hope was hit with the _plum._ The praetorian cohorts are trying to restore order and round up the rioters. The men have been ordered to their barracks until further notice."

"Any word from my father?"

"A message came, ma'am," Milton affirmed, "He is safe and has convened a war council. He asks that you and your sister remain in the tent where it's safe until the situation has stabilized."

Lizzie nodded, "I don't think we'll be going anywhere anytime soon."

The tent flipped open and out came Landon, looking exhausted but relieved. Josie's eyes fluttered open and snapped to him.

"You may come back in now."

* * *

Meredith was gathering her things when Josie rushed in.

"How is she?" She breathed.

"Stable. The cauterization stopped the bleeding. I have cleaned her wound and dressed it. The danger has passed." The tentacles of fear that had been clutching Josie's heart in an iron grip disappeared and Josie let out a shuddering breath.

"She's very fortunate," Meredith continued, "Two digits to the right and that _pilum_ would have killed her."[i]

Meredith's words struck her like a hammer, and it was only then that Josie realized just how close she had been to losing Hope and how important the auburn-haired woman had become to her.

"Thank you, Meredith," Gratitude swelled in Josie's chest "Truly. I do not know what I would have done if Hope di-" Josie swallowed, "if she didn't make it."

"You don't have to thank me, Josie," Meredith smiled at her kindly. "Saving people is my job. And I understand how you feel, believe me," the brown-haired physician gave her a sly look, "I was in love once."

_Love?_

From the heat on her cheeks, Josie deduced she must be blushing furiously. She ducked her head, trying to hide her flush behind a sheet of hair, though Meredith had most certainly seen the red on her face already. Was she in love with Hope?

"I-"

Meredith pressed a roll of dressing into Josie's palm before she could reply, "She is asleep for now. Someone needs to stay with her for the next week or two, change the dressing every four hours, and watch for signs of infection. Send for me immediately if her condition worsens."

Josie nodded, and Meredith made her way out of the tent with one more warm smile.

She approached Hope's bedside. The auburn-haired woman looked small and peaceful as she curled up on the bed, asleep. There was a thick layer of dressing around her shoulder, where the fabric of her clothes had been cut away so Meredith could access the wound. A wave of protectiveness surged in Josie, and the brunette slipped her fingers through Hope's and gave them a gentle squeeze.

"Hey Hope," Josie whispered to the sleeping woman, running her hand through Hope's red manes, "I'm so relieved that you are going to okay. I know you can't hear me right now- honestly, I'm glad that you can't. Not that I don't wish I could see those beautiful, blue eyes of yours," Josie chuckled, "Gods, I can imagine the look you'd give me if you heard that. The reason I'm glad that you can't hear me right now is that I don't think I'd have the courage to say what I'm about to if you could." Josie inhaled deeply, "Meredith thinks that I'm in love with you. Coming to think of it, it would not surprise me if Lizzie does too. As for me, well, I don't know," Josie hesitated, gazing at Hope's closed eyes, "A part of me wishes you are awake now, Hope, so I'd know your reaction to what I just said. Maybe it's best that I don't. I don't know how you'd react to that just like I don't know if I'm in love with you," She leaned in and whispered directly into Hope's ear, "But there is something I do know, Hope, and that is I care about you. Very, very deeply. I know that I was just playing you at first, and I hated myself for it, because what kind of evil person is capable of toying with someone as good as you, Hope? You are beautiful, kind, loyal and one of the strongest people I know, and I swear to you, Hope, I swear on the Gods of Rome and the Gods of Greece that I will do everything I can to make sure you make it through this war, and that you get to see all the places you dream of visiting," Josie caressed Hope's cheek delicately, "Even if it means laying down my life for you. Because you are worth it, Hope. You are worth the world, and I will tell it to you every day until you believe me."

A few drops of tears had escaped her eyes and Josie wiped them away.

"I have to go now. Lizzie and Landon will take good care of you and I will be back as soon as I can, I promise."

Josie pressed a kiss to Hope's forehead, then gently untangled her fingers from Hope's, and, with one last lingering look at Hope's sleeping form, rose swiftly and strode out of the tent.

Lizzie and Landon were conversing quietly right outside the tent.

"Can you look after Hope until I'm back?" She asked her sister.

"Josie," Lizzie turned to her, surprised, "Of course we will." She exchanged a look with Landon, "But where are you going?"

There was a fire in Josie's eyes.

"I'm going to have a word with Matthew Donovan."

* * *

The situation was tense.

Damon was locked in a shouting match with Senator Tanner - Alaric never much liked that corrupt bastard. Dorian towered over one of the legates, looking ready to murder him, and Matt was scowling at him from his chair.

"Be reasonable, Matt." His patience was rapidly thinning, "I have known you since you were a boy and this bloody thirst for revenge isn't you."

"And I suppose meek, stuttering obedience is?" Matt scoffed, "You are no father of mine, Saltzman Hispanianus, you cannot bid me as you please."

Alaric's temper flared. "As your colleague," He fought to keep the anger from his tone, but his voice was rising, "I am respectfully asking you to see my reasoning. The girl is blameless in Jeremy's murder, it is no justice to punish her for a crime she had no part of."

"I do see your reasoning, colleague," Matt leaned back into his chair and waved derisively, "I simply find it rubbish."

"Allow me to make myself clear then," Alaric rose and leaned forward, his frame towering over Matt, "I do not wish for any harm to befall her."

"Your wish is as immaterial as it is ill-considered."

"You forget, Senator," Alaric uttered slowly, a dangerous edge in his voice, "that I am also the supreme magistrate of this province. You are bound by the law, and, if that has no bearing on your senses, Jupiter himself to obey me."

"I remember quite well, Your Excellency." Matt looked at him defiantly, "I remember that Greece is yours because the Senate gave it to you and that purple cape flows from your shoulder because the Senate attached it there. I remember that we put you in that chair and we can tear you from it just as well."

The tent flipped open with a rustle and low, but strong voice boomed into the tent, "I know I didn't just hear a threat, Senator Donovan, because that man in front you is the commander of this camp. To disobey him is insubordination at best and mutiny at worse." Leaning on a cane with a stern glare fixed on Matt, looking a little worse for wear was Richard Lockwood, "Either would be ground enough for execution."

The tent stilled.

"Consul Lockwood," Matt sounded just as surprised to see him as Alaric was, "We were not expecting you."

"I suspect that our good physician would've had me restrained if she knew I was planning on so recklessly endangering my health," Lockwood lowered himself onto a chair with the help of one of his lictors, "Fortunately for me, her medical expertise was required elsewhere, thanks to your little stunt earlier, colleague."[ii]

"Now," Lockwood folded his cane over his lap. His face was pale and his voice was remarkably quiet, but his eyes were as hard and his tone as firm as always, "Does anyone want to explain to me why I just witnessed our prisoner, who is under my co-Consul's express protection, almost get ripped to pieces by a mob?"

Alaric, surprisingly relieved by Lockwood's return, quickly recounted the events of the past week, from the meeting where Matt suggested they kill Hope in retaliation to the negotiations for the return of the bodies. He expected to see Lockwood's signature fury at Klaus' demand of ransom, but all the silver-haired Consul did was to shut his eyes and release a weary sigh.

"I knew Klaus had not a shred of honor in him, but to hold the bodies of his fellow Romans ransom- and for 1,200 pounds of gold?" Lockwood rubbed his temple slowly, "We should have told him to keep the bodies if he treasured them so."

Alaric couldn't even hide his surprise, "The law demands that we bury our dead-"

"The law also demands that we crush the renegade and restore our _res publica._ A few rotten corpses wouldn't have done him any good, but 1,200 pounds of gold will." There was no bit in Lockwood's words, only exhaustion, "Forgive my weariness, colleagues, the journey from my tent proves more tiring than I anticipated. My co-Consul is right, of course, we must bury our dead, and I am grateful to him for returning my son to me."

"We must also avenge them," Matt ignored the withering glares leveled at him, "The surest way is to kill Klaus' daughter."

"Enough!" Alaric snapped, his patience finally worn out, "I understand your anger, and on account of your grief, I will let your disrespect slide this one time. But I will not tolerate another word of insubordination from you. I and I alone hold imperium here, and I decree that Hope of the Mikaelsons must not be harmed. Any act of violence or incitement of violence toward her will lead to summary judgment."[iii]

"My co-Consul is being outrageously forgiving toward you, colleague. Count yourself lucky that he has not cut out your treacherous tongue and nailed it to a pillar for all to see," Lockwood chided. His tone was not exactly harsh but far from gentle, "A smart man would thank him for his mercy and be done with this matter."

"A Roman obeys hierarchy, and obey I will," Matt's tongue spoke of obedience, but his eyes spoke of defiance, "But that does not abate our need for revenge."

"You can forget about Hope then." Every head in the tent snapped to the entrance, where Josie now stood. Her cheeks were pink, but her tone was steady and sure, "Klaus could not care less about her, he said it himself. Killing her achieves us nothing. You want revenge? Hit him where it hurts."

"And where might that be?"

"Klaus is a rebel - a warlord. He has no moral or legal legitimacy to hold any province or office. He is nothing without his legions. That's where we strike." There was a glint in Josie's eyes, "The 13th legion remains in Rome and we are going to poach it from right under Klaus' nose."

Matt snorted, "Do enlighten our dull minds on how we can simply 'poach' one of Klaus' most loyal legions from right under his nose."

"The 13th legion is loyal to Klaus, yes, but that loyalty is not ironclad. There is a chink in the armor of the 13th - its commander." Josie replied confidently, "Tristan de Martel's ambitions are well known, and he pursues them with no regard for honor or propriety. We only have to convince him that switching his allegiance to us will advance those ambitions farther than remaining loyal to Klaus will."

"Tristan de Martel has been a client of the Mikaelsons since Elijah secured him his first tribunate," Tanner exclaimed, "Surely he would not think to betray them?"[iv][v]

"Lady Josette is onto something here, Senator," Damon interceded, "Elijah plucked Tristan from obscurity, made him an officer for his German campaign, and secured him his first public office. He owes everything to Elijah, certainly, but Elijah has been missing for almost two decades now. And while Tristan saw Elijah as his patron - father, even - his relationship with Klaus is entirely transactional."

"You touch it with a needle. Whatever personal loyalty Tristan de Martel has for Elijah Mikaelson is not extended to his brother," Josie finished, "He may be persuaded to abandon him with the right enticement."[vi]

"While I see the plan's merit and do not wish to dismiss it out of hand," Matt waved his hand dismissively, "Klaus has had us on our backfoot since he crossed the Rubicon and what little gold we had to spare now sits in his coffers. We possess nothing that could possibly satiate the hungry wolf's appetite."

"That is not entirely true," Lockwood spoke with a quiet resolve, "We could give him the ultimate privilege that every Roman strives for. We could make him Consul for next year."

"A privilege that is currently more burden than honor."

"Klaus means to anoint himself _Rex,_ my young colleague," Lockwood shook his head, "And when he does, the consulship will be worth less than the parchment that records it, if he does not outright do away with it. Tristan de Martel has too much pride to stand in another man's shadow - no, he wants to be the one who stands above all. Perhaps we could remind him of that."[vii]

The tent fell silent after that. Then, one by one, people turned to the head of the table and Alaric felt the weight of every pair of eyes in the tent on him. He contemplated.

"This is a radical plan, one that is not without risk," He finally spoke. "But as Senator Donovan said, Klaus has had us on our backfoot since he crossed the Rubicon, and I, for one, am tired of it." His voice hardened, "Let's see what a warlord is worth without his army."

* * *

Lizzie and Landon were whispering in each other's ears when Josie returned.

"Hey," her sister noticed her, "How did it go?"

"Fine." Josie replied, "How is Hope?"

"Drifting in and out of consciousness, but otherwise stable."

Josie nodded in satisfaction, "Father wants you to know that all the rioters have been rounded up. They will be flogged except for the man who threw the _pilum,_ " A dark look crossed Josie's face, "He will be crucified."

Lizzie exhaled in relief, "It's over at last," The blonde glanced at Landon then back at Josie, "That was smart what you did back there. We would probably all be dead if you had not reacte-"

Images flashed before Josie's eyes. Hope, looking scared but determined to protect Josie as her long, auburn hair fell from the hood of her red cloak and the mob closed in around them. Hope, jumping in front of a _pilum_ for her without hesitation. Hope, falling to the ground with a thud as the _pilum_ tore into her shoulder and Josie's heart. Hope, looking deathly pale as they hurriedly carried her to Josie's tent. Hope, blood shooting from her shoulder as Landon pulled the _pilum_ out. Hope, whimpering in pain as Meredith frantically pressed one rag after another to her spurting wound. Hope, screaming as Meredith thrust the burning blade onto her wound.

"Thank you both for keeping an eye on her." Josie shook herself out of her trance forcefully, her throat tight and her tone stiff, "Go get some rest, I'll take it from here."

"Are you certain?" Landon asked.

Josie gave a forced nod, "It has been a long day."

_And I'd like to spend some time alone with Hope._

"As you wish," Landon acceded and left the tent with Lizzie in tow.

Josie found herself at Hope's side once again and the auburn-haired woman's eyes blinked open.

"Jo?"

"I'm here," A genuine smile finally formed on Josie's lips at the sight of those sky blue eyes.

I will make sure you get through this war and see all the places you dream of visiting, even if it means laying down my life. She had said when Hope was unconscious.

"Does your wound still hurt?" She now said when Hope is awake.

Hope's voice was faint and strained, "Not as much as it used to."

"You let me know if it starts feeling worse again, okay?"

Hope nodded.

"That was really brave of you," Josie threaded her fingers through Hope's hair, gently caressing her red mane, "Throwing yourself in front of a _pilum_ like a true Roman hero. Stupid, but brave."

"I am honored, my fair lady, that you think I am a hero."

"Did you not hear the part where I said you are stupid too?"

"I just sustained a serious injury. There is this occasional ringing in my ears that blocks out my hearing," Hope looked very pleased with herself, though her voice was croaky and she looked like she was straining herself just to keep her eyes open. "I only heard you call me a hero, and nothing that followed."

Josie chuckled, "I'll let it slide this time. But only because you just saved my life."

Hope yawned, "I'm really happy that you're here, Jo, but I don't think I'm very good company right now."

_You being here is enough, Hope._

"Rest some more. We have both had a draining day." Josie eyed Hope's desk, "Do you want me to read to you until you fall asleep?"

Hope hummed and Josie took it as a yes. She picked up Hope's copy of _The Civil Wars_ and flipped it open.

_"Africa could perhaps be described as a Faustian pact between the two sides. Both the Sullans and we knew that the province was loyal to our cause, and secretly provided us with crucial supplies of money, men and arms throughout the war, but both sides had enough reason to tolerate this farce of neutrality. I was painfully aware that we could not spare the men to defend the province from the Sullans. Having Africa openly join us would only put our supply at risk. The Senate had less reason to tolerate Africa's covert support for us, but feared that having another province in open rebellion would trigger a chain reaction across the provinces. Indeed, even Elijah was wary of sending an army there. The calculus, however, changed when the war entered its twelfth year. I sensed that it was our best opportunity yet to end the war on favorable terms, and gambled with everything I had. Africa would play a crucial role."_

"An excellent work," Josie almost jumped. She turned around and saw Meredith standing by the entrance of the tent, "I remember how proud your father was when he finished writing it. I’m sure he would be prouder still if he knew his daughter has finally read it."

"I haven't, not really," Josie set the book down carefully. Hope was fast asleep again, "Hope has been reading it though. I was only reading to her to help her fall asleep."

"Ah," Meredith nodded and approached the palliasse, "I am going to check on her wound, make sure it is not infected."

Josie rose and stepped back, and Meredith quietly went to work. Josie watched as the brown-haired physician unwrapped the dressing and gave a satisfied hum when she saw the wound. She carefully rinsed it with water and dabbed it dry with a piece of cloth. Then, she drew a new roll of dressing and wrapped it around Hope's wound.

"What's the diagnosis?" Josie asked anxiously.

"Her wound shows no signs of infection," Meredith stood, "She should make a full recovery in a few weeks bar any complications."

"That is a relief to hear." Josie nodded.

"I'm sure it is," Meredith gathered up her pouch, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go check on Consul Lockwood."

The brown-haired physician turned to leave but Josie quickly stopped her.

"Wait!" She called out, "You have known my father for a long time, haven't you?"

"Since before you were born." Meredith turned back around, "Why do you ask?"

Josie hesitated slightly, "Does the name Caroline mean anything to you?"

The smile on Meredith's face froze, "What do you know of that name?"

"Just that it means something to both my father and Klaus," Josie looked at Meredith earnestly, "But my father wouldn't tell me who she is, or why she's so important that he has to keep her a secret from his own daughter."

"All I can tell you," said Meredith slowly, "is that there is a very good reason your father is keeping it from you. Not because he doesn't trust you, but because he wants to protect you. And on the Gods of Rome, on the Gods of Greece, I promise you, it is not a thread you want to pull on."

* * *

[i] The _digitus_ was the smallest unit of length the Romans used. Two digits is just under four centimeters, or just over an inch.

[ii] _Lictors_ were personal bodyguards assigned to Roman magistrates. They followed the magistrate wherever they went and carried axes to signify their authority to carry out capital punishment. The number of _lictors_ attached to a magistrate depended on the office. During the regal era, the King was escorted by 24 lictors. Therefore, the republican Consuls had 12 lictors each. During the imperial era, the Emperor would have 24 lictors.

[iii] _Imperium_ was the legal authority granted to a person by the Senate, usually a military command. The commander of a campaign would hold _imperium_ over the entire province and be the supreme magistrate with considerable legal authority. The Senate could grant virtually any power to a person under the terms of their _imperium._ Though the commander was not always authorized to raise new legions, they generally had the power to make peace without considering the Senate, though the latter reserved the right to refuse to ratify the peace if it found the terms objectionable.

[iv] _Tribune of the Plebs_ was a powerful office. Ten tribunes were elected by the people every year, each with the power to veto legislation and putting bills to the people for a vote. The tribunes’ persons were also sacrosanct – in other words, they, and anyone they place under their protection, could not be harmed. Young aristocrats often used this office as a springboard to jumpstart their political careers.

[v] It was common for ambitious, young Romans to seek the support of patrons with money and political connections.

[vi] You touch it with a needle – you hit the nail on the head.

[vii] _Rex_ was the title Roman Kings of the old styled themselves with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy that I found a way to bring Meredith into this story, even if it took Hope almost dying to make it happen. I love Meredith and I wish we saw more of her in TVD. What did you guys think of her debut?
> 
> Josie the cunning diplomat in action again, and she's starting to deal with her feelings for Hope! What did you guys think of that?
> 
> Next chapter will be in Alaric's perspective and we'll see his thoughts on the war & Hope and Josie's budding relationship.
> 
> I would like to say that exile is the best song that's graced humankind since Everything Has Changed. Also, there is this Hosie & Klaroline fanvid with exile in the background, go check it out!
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZmmDYyb0Gyw
> 
> As always, thank you guys so much for reading. I hope you've enjoyed the story so far. It would mean a lot to me if you could leave a kudo and a comment, your support is what drives me to keep going at this story. Also, over 100 kudos! Thank you guys so much!
> 
> Until next time!
> 
> Trivia Time
> 
> Caesar was only given four legions by the Senate when he took up his governorship in Gaul. However, he was authorized to raise fresh legions without consulting the Senate and took advantage of that. Over the course of his war to subjugate Gaul, he would raise an additional eight legions.


	11. consul of rome, general of the legions of greece

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alaric thought it was going to be just another boring day; it turned out to be anything but.

**Two Months Later**

Alaric had a routine.

In the morning, he would do some exercises in the view of his men. As he discovered in Spain, soldiers were more motivated in their training if they saw their commander setting a strong, personal lead. It was the same reason he was the first person to throw out his bed and sleep on a straw palliasse - a good commander never imposes any hardship on their men that they wouldn't endure themselves. He had to harden his men quickly if they were to stand a chance against Klaus' veterans, and making their living conditions less comfortable was a good place to start.

Some mornings, he would practice with a _pilum._ Others, he would work on his physical strength. There were also occasions when he would spar with one of his comrades - usually Damon or Dorian. The most demanding exercises, however, were on horseback. He would mount his steed and urge it into a full gallop. Carefully maintaining his balance, he would then either shoot arrows at dummies or slice at them with his _spatha._

Today, he found himself facing off one of his legionnaires with a _gladius_ and a _scutum_ \- a large, rectangular shield issued to the legion. Spectators, as always, had gathered around them.

"One sesterce on the General," One of the men wagered.[i]

"You are on."

Betting, too, was common. It was one of the few sources of entertainment the men had at camp.

"What's your name, brother?" Alaric asked his opponent.

"Centurion Jed Lucio of the 23rd legion, sir." He nodded in lieu of a salute.

Alaric had planned on dueling Damon that morning. They had fought beside each other in a hundred battles and sparred far more many times, and they could not be more familiar with the other person fought. But the centurion - a young one, by the legion's standards - had asked him for a spar with a respectful bow of his head.

Most commanders thought it irregular - improper even, to fraternize with their men in such manners. Alaric's boyhood idol, Scipio Aemilianus, the glorious conqueror of Carthage, had deliberately made himself inaccessible to his men to instill a sense of hierarchy. Scipio, however, had the full might of Rome behind him whereas Alaric had to make do with meager resources. Ultimately, Scipio only needed his men's obedience to subdue a much-reduced Carthage, while Alaric needed more than just obedience to get through the dark days of the Spanish war.

That made him willing to spar with his men if it meant earning their love as well.

Alaric and Jed fell into fighting stances, and Damon cried for them to begin.

Jed made the first move. He advanced cautiously, sending a probing jab at Alaric which the other man swiftly deflected. Jed struck again, this time more daringly, and Alaric sidestepped it with ease. Alaric attacked then, thrusting his shield at Jed, which the latter blocked with his own.

"Where are you from, Lucio?" Alaric asked as they circled each other.

"Tarraco, sir."[ii]

"A Spaniard. You are a long way from home."

"You left your home behind when you came to liberate mine, sir," Jed's eyes remained locked on his, "I am only returning the courtesy."

Alaric sliced down his _gladius_ at Jed's head. Steel clashed with a sharp sound as Jed met Alaric's blade with his own. Alaric struck again, this time swinging his _gladius_ through an arc at Jed's side. His blade bounced off Jed's shield, and the centurion thrust his _gladius_ at Alaric's chest.

Alaric swiftly brought up his shield and pushed Jed's sword over his head. The centurion swung his own shield in front of him and not a second later, Alaric's _gladius_ bounced off it.

"You fight well," Alaric remarked as the two of them jumped apart, observing each other for an opening.

"Thank you, sir," Jed replied, "I learned from my father. He said you taught him well."

Alaric smiled and Jed lunged at him, his _gladius_ raised. He darted out of the way. Jed pressed on with a jab of his shield, followed by another thrust of his _gladius,_ and Alaric parried each deftly.

Jed attacked again, undeterred. This time he struck his blade high, and when Alaric deflected it with his shield, thrust his own shield forward like a spear. Alaric spun away from the blow and swiftly swung his blade up, forcing Jed back.

Steel clashed yet again as they exchanged more blows, both combatants trying to force an opening. They sprung apart once more.

"You are fast on your feet for a man your age, sir," said Jed.

"In combat, you are either fast on your feet or dead on the ground," Alaric went on the attack this time.

He jabbed at Jed's face, which the centurion dodged with ease. Jed struck back as expected as Alaric dropped to his knees, missing the cut completely. Jed tried to pull his sword arm back just as Alaric swung his shield up, sending his _gladius_ flying. Jed took a step back, surprised, and Alaric sprung back on his feet, leveling his gladius at the centurion's throat before he could raise his shield.

Cold steel pressed against Jed's windpipe and he threw down his shield.

"I yield."

"Well fought," Alaric nodded and sheathed his _gladius,_ "I see my recruits are in good hands."

"You honor me, sir," They gripped forearms, and Jed departed with a salute.

"You all warmed up?" Alaric turned around and found Damon approaching him with a blade and a shield in hand.

"Just about."

Steel clashed once again.

* * *

A routine meeting came after his morning exercise.

Most of them Alaric attended in his capacity as General only, some he attended as both General and Consul, when Senators were present as well as officers. This was one such occasion.

"Greetings, colleagues," He said as he took his seat, "My co-Consul sends his apologies for not being able to join us. Our ever-dutiful physician has confined him to bed rest once again."

"It is nothing serious, I hope?" Tanner asked.

"He assures me that it is merely exhaustion," Alaric turned to his left, "Now, today's agenda?"

"The men's drilling is progressing at a satisfactory pace," Dorian reported, "Our recruits' physical fitness has improved considerably since they began training."

Alaric nodded, "And how well are they integrating?"

"Our Spaniards and Africans work well together, as expected," said Dorian, "The Greeks and the Italians no longer use each other for target practice, thank Mars, though they still brawl from time to time, and the Illyrians seem suspicious of everyone else, a sentiment that is very much reciprocated."

"Some coin is bound to convince them to get along better," said Tanner.

"You mean the coin we gave away to Klaus?" Matt snarked.

Irritation grazed against the back of his skull but Alaric pushed it aside. The moderates in the Senate found themselves led by Matt after Cicero's tragic demise, and he could not afford to alienate their leader, no matter how much the said leader grated on his nerves lately - his position, though not exactly tenuous, was far from unshakable. The cause of the _res publica_ was an unwieldy coalition of Lockwood's traditionalists, moderates appalled by Klaus, and Afro-Spanish provincials personally loyal to him - inimical factions held together only by their hatred of Klaus.

Therein lies his problem. His command had to be re-authorized by the Senate at the end of every year - the Italians would not have acquiesced to appointing a man who once took up arms against them otherwise - and he needed the support of at least one other faction to ensure it. Alaric had long assumed that he could count on Matt to rally the moderates for him. After all, he had known the younger man for a long time and he was always well-mannered and deferential to authority, if a little too much. Now that Matt had become hostile to him, the vote to extend his command was no longer a mere formality. Alaric was still hopeful that he could talk some sense into Matt once he'd had more time to grieve, but he could hardly base his long-term planning on hope alone.

Luckily, Lockwood remained committed to their anti-Klaus alliance, and as long as Alaric managed not to alienate him too, his command would be secure. Funny that. He had thought it only a matter of time before Lockwood's decades-long antipathy to him resumed, but it looked like his once-archnemesis was now his most important ally.

"As long as they will stand beside each other when it matters. It has been almost two months since we sent Tristan de Martel our offer of alliance. Have we received a reply?"

"No, but we should not trouble ourselves yet," said Damon, "It takes almost a month alone to make the journey to Rome."

"Of course," Alaric nodded, "Any news on the renegade's movement?"

"Klaus remains entrenched in his current position," Damon replied, "He seems to have sufficient provisions at least through this campaign season. Though my sources in Narbonensis report that the 8th legion is on the move."

"The 8th legion is a formidable force, and Kol Mikaelson is just cunning and ruthless a commander as his brothers," Dorian looked as serious as always, but a slight uptick of his eyebrow told Alaric that he was concerned, "It would spell trouble for us if he is headed here."

"He might be, though it would be unclear how he is planning on solving the small matter of transport," Damon deadpanned. "The sea lanes remain closed to him, and my spies in Illyria tell me the tribes have not been approached by anyone for safe passage. He could just as well be embarking on a policing operation or a show of strength across Gaul."

"How is one legion, however impressive, a show of strength?" Dorian was skeptical, "If anything parading only a single legion across Gaul advertises his weakness."

"A single legion may very well be enough after how decisively Klaus crushed Gallic resistance at Alesia," Damon countered, though he didn't sound very convinced himself.

"In any case," Alaric intervened, "It is imperative that we know more about Kol's plans. The last thing we need is for him to materialize at our rear."

"I shall double my efforts."

"Now, onto the matter of alliances. A letter has just arrived from King Massinissa of Numidia, addressed to me personally. It is very... _colorful,_ " Alaric unfurled the scroll.

_"To Alaric Saltzman Hispanianus, Consul of Rome. I recognize that I am, though nominally a king, in reality a vassal of Rome. I also recognize my vassalage bounds me, legally and morally, to come to Rome's aid when called upon. As you are without dispute, leader of the legitimate government of the Republic, and have formally called on me to fulfill my obligation to you, any King of Numidia would come to your rescue with all deliberate haste. Though it is a wonder what kind of a civilized man needs to help of a barbarian. Perhaps you have confounded the roles the Gods intended us? In any case, I am not any King of Numidia. I unified my realm and have been blessed with three consecutive years of good harvest, when your own has been cursed with strife and pulled apart like a doll. Therefore, I see no need to help you as you so pathetically beg me to, for I am not inferior or even equal to you. If I have not made myself clear, for you are even duller than I thought, oh great Saltzman Hispanianus, my answer is-"_

Alaric paused for dramatic effect.

_"-suck my cock. His Most Glorious Majesty, Bringer of Spring, Champion of the Gods, Restorer of the Realm, the Greatest King of Africa and Beyond, Massinissa II of Numidia." **[iii]**_

"That might be a little difficult," Damon commented wryly.

"This is preposterous," Matt shook his head, his face contorted with disgust.

"Preposterous, certainly." Alaric tossed the letter into the fire without care, "Our ever-restive vassal would try to shake off his shackles when Rome is busy making war upon itself. Not even Apollo himself has the foresight to predict this."

Dorian looked like he was refraining himself from rolling his eyes, "Anyhow, this insult must be answered, else we look weak to every barbarian tribe from Britannia to Armenia."

"And answered it will be, _after_ we have dealt with Klaus," Alaric uttered definitively, "I am more concerned that His Most Glorious Majesty," Alaric couldn't help the sarcasm dripping from his voice, "might fancy adding 'Conqueror of Carthage' to his long list of titles. We must warn the governor of Africa. And Damon? We need intelligence on the strength of the Numibidian fleet, and make preparations to fortify Sicily if necessary."

"I will alert my spies," Damon nodded.

Matt made another snide comment and Alaric rubbed his eyes. He wished Josie was here. Having his daughter by his side made these meetings slightly more bearable - certainly, Josie would know exactly what to say to make Matt behave less insufferably. She had mentioned something about going riding with Hope to help her recover her strength - Alaric couldn't exactly object, not after the auburn-haired woman saved Josie's life.

Lunch couldn't come soon enough.

* * *

Lunch was as bland as always.

Alaric didn't know why he kept expecting the potato mash to one day miraculously taste like something other than moist mud. Though he did have to concede that it was his own fault for insisting on austerity, as was Roman tradition. He sometimes wondered if he took that rule too far.

Alaric usually worked through his papers after lunch - letters, reports, petitions, and such. Thankfully, Josie decided to join him today since she had missed the meeting that morning.

"This can't be right," She muttered, poring over a small mountain of parchments.

"What's the matter?"

"This month's supply shipping from Carthage," Josie slid the documents to him, "Look at the numbers."

Alaric furrowed his eyebrows. To be honest, arithmetic was never his forte. Josie always had a knack for it though - a talent passed down from her mother, no doubt. But Alaric did enjoy reading, and he remembered reading a letter from the governor of Africa earlier.

"I believe a letter came with it," He rummaged through the parchments, "Here."

Josie scanned it quickly.

"The situation in Egypt does not seem optimistic," She remarked when she had finished with the letter.

"No, it does not," Alaric agreed, "Fighting has drastically intensified between forces loyal to Ptolemy and those loyal to his sister Cleopatra. The governor has taken the liberty to begin stockpiling supplies in case the conflict spills over into our borders, as is prudent."

"Our coffers will be even tighter now," Josie replied grimly, "I'll have to run the numbers again, see if we can still pay our men through next Spring with the reduced gold flow from Carthage."

"In the meantime, I shall devise additional measures to cut our expenses."

Josie raised an eyebrow.

"I shall ask Damon to devise some measures, I meant," Alaric put up his hands in surrender. Josie was too smart for him.

_Just like her mother._

He shoved that thought aside forcefully.

"As long as you don't cut the kitchen's budget again, the food is dire as is," Josie muttered, "Have you written to the governor of Sicily about fortifying his ports yet?"

"No," He shook his head, "But I thought you should do it, since you'd visited only a few months ago. The governor knows you speak with my authority."

Josie nodded, "You also have a letter from there."

Alaric took the scroll and unfurled it, "Ah, speaking of, it's the governor. He wants us to know that the construction is progressing ahead of schedule. At this rate, our fleets will be bolstered by twenty new galleys and thirty new transporters in weeks, rather than months."

"Good news at last," Josie hummed, "Another letter from Melita."[iv]

Shock shot through Alaric's system and he stiffened, but only for a second. He took the letter, already knowing what it was about, and set it aside, conveniently out of Josie's reach.

"It's personal correspondence," He said, his heart in his throat, "I'll read it later."

Much to Alaric's relief, Josie accepted his explanation with a nod.

He exhaled.

"And one from Antioch," She handed him another letter and Alaric almost scoffed when he read the header.

_"His Excellency Lucien Castle, Proconsul of Rome, General of the legions of the East, Conqueror of Pontus, Syria, and Judea, announces that he has achieved another splendid victory over the armies of the Parthia. Over 20,000 barbarians fell at Nisibis with minimal Roman and allied casualties. All barbarian forces west of the Euphrates have been obliterated. His Excellency now plans to cross the Euphrates and Tigris rivers and storm the Parthian capital Ctesiphon. Parthia will soon belong to Rome. Long live General Lucien Castle!" **[v]** **[vi]**_

"At least someone is finding success in war," Josie remarked wryly.

"Do you know why Lucien never wears a helmet?"

"Why?"

"Because that head of his will never fit," Alaric deadpanned and Josie laughed.

"You ought to nominate yourself for court jester to King Klaus. I'm sure His Majesty will spare your life for your jokes."

"I'm a little too old for a career change."

"Nonsense!" Josie waved, "No one is ever too old to be court jester."

Alaric couldn't help but laugh.

* * *

Alaric always tried to make some time for overseeing the men's training in the afternoon, even only for a few minutes. Soldiers were likely to drive themselves harder if they saw their commander watching them.

Usually, it was because the men feared their commander would punish them if he thought they were slacking. Alaric, on the other hand, tried to cultivate his men's respect and love as such that the soldiers would want to make him proud instead.

And if that didn't work, there was always public shaming, a tried-and-true method of the legion. Scipio Aemilianus had once loudly proclaimed he was fortunate that that one of his senior officers would only be useless to him for a short while, whereas he would remain useless to himself and the _res publica_ forever.

A centurion was instructing his men on how to wield a _pilum._ Aching for a good throw, Alaric asked the centurion's permission to demonstrate himself. He took the _pilum_ and hurled it with all his might. It struck its target with such force that the dummy was knocked to the ground.

His men cheered and that made Alaric feel good.

Next, he walked past a group of auxiliaries exercising their strength. An Illyrian - and a bold one - asked him for an arm-wrestling match. Alaric readily agreed and went on a winning streak until he came up against the last of the group. This particular Illyrian was huge - easily one of the tallest people he had ever seen, with a muscular frame to match.

Alaric put up a good fight, but his arm was sore from the earlier matches and his opponent was both younger and stronger. With a jubilant cry, the Illyrian slapped his arm down. Another commander might have punished the auxiliary - actually, another commander would have the whole group flogged for even suggesting that he arm-wrestle with them, but Alaric took it good-heartedly.

With an affable laugh and a friendly pat on the Illyrian's shoulder, Alaric congratulated him and told the group to get back to training. Judging by their jovial expressions, Alaric thought he made the right call.

He was having a remarkably slow day. Alaric attributed it to Josie's helping him with his papers. There was still some time before dinner and Alaric decided to visit an old friend.

"Ah, Ric," Meredith greeted when he walked into her tent, "What can I do for you?"

With a small smile, he held up a flagon of wine, "Join me for a drink?"

"Who am I to refuse the General?" Meredith grinned and took a goblet from Alaric. She took a sip of the wine and _moaned._

"You have been holding out on me, Saltzman," She glared at him playfully, "I take that there is truth to the rumor that you have a whole cask of fine Spanish red hidden away somewhere?"

"Just this flagon, I'm afraid." The memory made him chuckle, "Damon snatched the rest with uncanny speed."

Alaric took a sip of the wine himself. The wine had a light, fruity taste with a hint of vanilla. It was light years better than what they normally had at camp - again, no one's fault but his own - and that made him feel good. But then he remembered all the times Jeremy and the twins snuck into his cellar for a taste. They thought he had no idea. Alaric knew, of course - he _did_ know a thing or two about being stealthy - but he pretended he didn't.

Thinking about Jeremy made him sad and he drank more wine.

Meredith's chuckle brought him back to the present.

"I am honored that you decided to share it with me," She said in a jokingly formal tone. Curiosity glimmered in Meredith's eyes, "We have been in Greece for a half-year, and not once did you make a social visit before. Why now?"

Alaric hummed.

"Josie tells me your patient is doing well."

"Klaus' daughter?" Meredith raised an eyebrow, "I was very surprised to hear that she threw herself in front of a _pilum_ for Josie. I didn't realize they were so close."

"I doubt even they realized it," Alaric said, "Split-second decisions are often made instinctively."

A twinkle flickered in Meredith's eyes, "Something a physician and a commander have in common, it seems." She paused, then gave him a meaningful look, "I do hope you know what you are doing with her, Ric. For your daughter's sake, if not anyone else's."

Alaric could only nod. He knew that all too well. Josie's life had become utterly and irrevocably intertwined with Hope's, and he could not handle the situation with the auburn-haired woman without all his wit and caution, not when Josie's heart was at stake.

Alaric rubbed his temple tiredly.

"You had no idea this would happen when you sent Josie, did you?"

Alaric jolted. He turned sharply to look at Meredith, "How do you-" He shook his head, "Of course you know. You are too smart not to."

"And you didn't answer my question."

"Truthfully," Alaric bit his lip, "I didn't think Josie would have any success at all. I thought Hope would flat out tell her to fuck off. And I thought that Josie would keep trying to gain Hope's trust, but eventually even she would run out of patience and give up."

Surprise crossed Meredith's face, "Why did you give your daughter a task that you thought was hopeless then?"

Alaric chuckled without humor. He'd had scarce reasons to laugh lately, and abundant to sigh, "How funny. That word. Hopeless. That was exactly how I felt about the war. I thought Klaus was going to squash us like bugs and all I could do was delay the inevitable. Put Josie and Lizzie on a ship to Hibernia, maybe. What did I have to lose by trying?"

Meredith paused, "Does Josie know?"

"Of course not."

_How could I snuff out the light in her eyes?_

She silently gulped down her wine.

"You told me about Spain," Meredith said, "About how desperate you felt when Elijah razed your cities to the ground one by one and all you could do was watch. You made it through that war though, as hopeless as it seemed. Who's to say you can't make it through another?"

"If only this was Spain, Meredith," Alaric shook his head. Images flashed in his mind - cities in smokes, fields scorched black, a pair of lifeless green eyes- feelings he had long buried came rushing back, and a sharp ache tore through his chest. He found his throat tight and his lungs constricted and he almost gasped, gripping on the edge of the desk forcefully to steady himself. 

"My enemies were rational back then." Alaric rasped breathlessly.

_In a cold, brutal, calculating way._

He turned his face away from Meredith so his companion couldn't see how tightly his eyes were squeezed shut, "They could be reasoned and dealt with. Klaus can't. If I had any illusions about that, I certainly don't anymore. Not after he murdered Jeremy. The only way this war ends is with one of us being paraded down the streets in chains."

Luckily, Meredith did not notice his anguish.

"I remember when you introduced me to him all those years ago," She had a faraway look in her eyes, "How kind and genial he was. Gods, I can hardly believe he's the same person. If only Caroline-"

Meredith caught herself.

She gave Alaric an apologetic look, "I'm sorry, Ric. I wasn't thinking."

"It's okay," He tried to smile at Meredith, but all he managed was a grimace. His stomach twisted at the sound of Caroline's name.

_Yes, if only._

"You know, Josie asked about her a few weeks ago," Meredith said.

"Why am I not surprised," Alaric sighed, "What did you tell her?"

"Nothing you would not want me to," Meredith replied, "Just that you are keeping it from her for a good reason, and that it is not a threat she wants to pull on."

"I owe you my thanks then."

"You don't have to thank me. I know it is not my secret to tell," Meredith looked at him pointedly, "It is yours, though. And don't you that think the twins should kn-"

"They are not ready." Alaric shook his head.

"Ready or not, Josie is a resourceful woman. She will learn the truth eventually," Meredith replied, her voice firm but not unkind, "Do you really want her to learn it from someone else?"

Alaric wordlessly refilled their goblets and a beat of silence befell them.

"This is an excellent wine," Meredith was the one to break it.

"It's the children's favorite," He replied absent-mindedly.

They clicked their goblets.

"You carry so much weight on your shoulder, Ric," Meredith looked at him after a brief pause, "This war - beating Klaus, saving the _res publica,_ you carry that burden like it's yours alone but it's not. It's all of ours."

"A lot of good people came to us." Alaric's replied slowly and solemnly, a heavy weight on his chest, "They didn't have to. They could have stayed in the comfort of their homes with their families. But they are here with us because they trust me. I can see it in their eyes. They think I can save their liberties and lives from Klaus. I cannot fail them."

_Like I failed Jeremy. Like I failed Caroline. Like I failed Jen-_

"I owe it to them for trusting me. I am the General, not you or Damon or Lockwood. So yes, this burden is mine, and mine alone."

"Let me help you carry it then," Meredith touched his arm gently, "Tell me about the things that trouble you, things that you can't tell Josie. I may not be able to get all of us through the war, but I can get you through it."

Another beat.

"I'd like that."

* * *

Alaric was at dinner when he thought that the day would end without drama.

He was wrong.

He was attempting to chew something that vaguely resembled bread when a runner burst into his tent, panting heavily.

"Sir," the runner saluted, "Our patrol encountered an enemy scouting party. Many men from both sides are quickly joining the skirmish."

Alaric was thankful that he had opted not to take off his armor before dinner.

He rushed out of his tent and ran straight into Dorian.

"How many men have engaged?"

"At least sixteen cohorts, many more are rushing to the scene," Dorian replied, "I'll have the men slow down and form up in battle arrays-"

"Forget about the bloody battle arrays!" Alaric uttered, "Tell the centurions not to wait and lead their men into battle in centuries rather than cohorts. We can't pull our men back and we can't slow this melee down. Best we can do is get as many men into the fray as quickly as possible."[vii]

"Yes sir," Dorian saluted and rushed off. Alaric hurried to the praetorian barracks and found Damon screaming for the cohorts to rally.

Damon looked visibly relieved when he saw Alaric, "The first and the second cohorts have formed up. We are waiting on the third and the fourth-"

"We don't have time to wait," Alaric cut him off, "I'll take the first and the second now and deploy behind our lines as reserves. Take the third and the fourth and get them on horseback. Conceal yourselves behind the hills to our right and wait. Ride out and hit Klaus' flank when the timing is ripe, and not a second before, we only get one shot at this."

"See you on the battlefield, brother," Damon nodded and gripped his forearm and Alaric was off.

"First and second cohorts on me!"

* * *

It was utter chaos when Alaric arrived.

Century after century poured onto the battlefield and crashed into each other, man against man, steel against steel. His soldiers were holding their ground for now, but Klaus' men will have the upper hand in the chaos of a melee due to their experience.

Most of his men had never been in a battle before, and they were beginning to buckle under the pressure. Though Klaus' forces were outnumbered, they fought with the confidence of seasoned veterans and worked together seamlessly. Slowly, but surely, they started gaining ground and pushing Alaric's men back.

"You two, take your centuries and reinforce the center!" Alaric barked out orders at his centurions, "You, guard our left flank! The rest of you, bows out!"

The praetorians quickly formed four lines and swapped their swords for bows.

"Nock."

More soldiers arrived.

"Draw."

They charged into the melee with a loud cry.

"Loose!"

The arrows whipped across the night sky in a perfect arc and a wave of Klaus' soldiers went down. Alaric's own men gave a triumphant cry and pressed into Klaus' ranks with renewed vigor.

"Nock."

Somewhere to Alaric's left, a centurion blew his whistle. A sharp noise tore through the air as the ranks shuffled. The soldiers at the front moved their shields aside and stepped back through the gaps between the files just as the next line surged forward and took their place.

"Draw."

Klaus' centurion blew his whistle as well as his lines too rotated. A second later, fresh troops were clawing at each other with their shields and _gladii._

"Loose!"

His praetorians' aim remained true, but Klaus' men were ready this time.

" _Testudo!_ "

Klaus' centurions cried. The soldiers at the front braced their shields against the ground and dropped to one knee, concealing themselves fully while the soldiers behind them raised their shields and covered the ones in front of them.

The arrows bounced off the shields harmlessly.

"Nock."

Alaric ordered again, undeterred.

"Draw."

His soldiers advanced as Klaus' forces held their shield wall.

"Loos- Shields out! _Testudo!_ "

Klaus' archers fired in retaliation and Alaric ordered his praetorians to lock shields. The shields blocked the arrows, but Klaus' forces were able to break their _testudo_ and hold their ground as Alaric's men advanced.

" _Tacombre!_ " He shouted, "Second cohort, fire at will! First cohort, protect the Second!"

The battle went on.

His left wing was occupied by more experienced units. They fought confidently and held their ground. His center was under heavy assault, but Alaric swiftly dispatched reinforcements each time Klaus' men threatened to break through. The center would hold for now, but his right wing was teetering.

Wave after wave of fresh troops from both sides crashed into each other and there was little time for the centurions to maneuver their men into formation amidst the chaos. The fighting on the right side resembled a brawl more than a battle, and Klaus' veterans were slaughtering Alaric's raw recruits. Cracks were forming in several positions even after Alaric sent three centuries there to stabilize the situation.

It was only a matter of time before his men started panicking. And if his right flank fell apart then his entire army would be routed. Alaric drew his _gladius._

"Brothers! Follow my lead!" He cried with all his might. He had only half a cohort of reserves left, but his praetorians were all capable fighters and they would follow him to the Underworld. "Advance!"

Alaric charged into the fray with 250 men at his back. A legionnaire - one of his own - was on a knee with a blade leveled at his neck. Klaus' soldier drew his sword back to deliver the final blow just as Alaric drove his _gladius_ between his eyes.

"Up, brother! Up!" He pulled the legionnaire back on his feet and advanced at the next enemy.

A legionnaire with a red crest running across his helmet from left to right - a centurion - slashed his _gladius_ across one of Alaric's men's neck. He dodged swing at his head and thrust his blade between another soldier's ribs. The centurion tore out his _gladius_ just as Alaric sliced off the hand that held the sword. He went down with a cry and Alaric plunged his blade into his gut.

Alaric sidestepped a slash and cut another man down, then parried another strike and slammed his fist into the assailant's jaw. His _gladius_ tore through the soldier's chest before he could get up again.

"For the _res publica!_ " He leaped with a cry and sliced his _gladius_ through a soldier's knees, then sent another to the ground with a kick.

A third soldier came running at him with his blade raised and Alaric threw himself forward into a roll, dodging the blow deftly and thrust his _gladius_ into the man's pelvis.

A kick struck his back and sent Alaric to the ground. He rolled out of the way just as a _gladius_ was driven through where he had been a half-second ago. Alaric brought his blade up in a wild arc and severed the man's leg at the ankle. The man dropped to his knee with a scream and Alaric sent him to Pluto with a stab.

"For the _res publica!_ " He cried again, and this time it was echoed across the battlefield. Alaric jumped onto his feet with renewed vigor and threw himself back into the melee.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight.

He was starting to lose count of how many men he had cut down when something whipped past him. Alaric looked up and saw a dozen _pila_ colliding into Klaus' ranks. Klaus' men stared at the fallen comrades in shock just as a voice boomed.

"Reform! Reform!" Centurion Jed Lucio, looking worse for wear with his face caked in blood and dirt, roared and the men, still inexperienced but no longer green, hurried into ranks with their shields up and their _gladii_ ready, "Shields!"

A wave of Klaus' men slammed into them, but Alaric's soldiers held their ground and maintained formation. The men at the back braced their arms against the men in front of them firmly, while the ones at the front thrust their _gladii_ through the gaps of their locked shields and struck at chinks in their enemies' armors.

"Rotate!" Jed cried, and the men shuffled through their ranks gracelessly, but not awkwardly. The line remained steady.

Suddenly, thunder thudded to their right and Alaric looked up the hills to find a thousand horses charging at Klaus' flank at full gallop. Their leader, whose face was too far for Alaric to make out, but he knew to be Damon, drew his sword, and hundreds of arrows rained down at Klaus' army.

"It's the praetorian cohorts!" One of Alaric's men cried and the rest cheered.

Klaus' men seemed awed and their centurions blew the retreat horn as Alaric's third and fourth praetorian cohorts descended upon them. They swapped their bows for _spathas_ and lances when they were close enough and cut through Klaus' men in their path.

A few of Klaus' centurions rallied their men and a wave of _pila_ was launched at Alaric's cavalry, but most had simply retreated. The riders maneuvered their horses out of the way deftly, and broke apart with practiced ease. The rest of Klaus' forces sounded their own retreat when they saw their left flank scattering. The two cavalry wings swung around, with the left running across the back of Alaric's infantry lines and the right returning to the hills.

"Hold your positions!" Alaric shouted, "Do not pursue! Do not pursue!"

The battle was over. Klaus' army had been repelled.

* * *

"To commend our men for their valor in the face of adversity, every legionnaire will be given 100 sesterces, and every officer will be given 500 sesterces," Alaric announced. "Centurion Jed Lucio will be given 1,000 sesterces and a formal commemoration for the incredible leadership he showed today in rallying our right wing, allowing our horses to repel Klaus' men."

The war council nodded it through.

"Now, we need to discuss how the skirmish was allowed to happen to begin with," Alaric said more somberly. "I specifically ordered patrols to be vigilant and avoid engagement."

"We do not know, sir. Most of the men who made the initial contact with Klaus' scouts are dead." Dorian answered.

"Well, we better find out for our sake. Klaus almost finished us off tonight thanks to that little skirmish."

"I will try my best, sir," Dorian nodded.

"How bad are the casualties?"

"We are still tallying, sir," was Dorian's response, "Initial estimates put our dead at eight hundred and Klaus' at five."

"Thank you, Dorian," said Alaric, "Inform me immediately when we receive a reply from Tristan de Martel. What just happened shows that we need his legion now more than ever."

Three days later, a letter arrived from Rome.

Tristan de Martel had agreed to join them and set sail for Greece with the 13th legion. They will march to Dyrrachium and meet him there in a fortnight to finalize the details of their alliance.

* * *

[i] The _sesterce_ was a Roman coin. During the republican era, it was a small, silver coin fixed at the value of one quarter a _denarius,_ the standard silver coin. During the imperial era, it would be reintroduced as a large, brass coin. Its value would deteriorate significantly during the 3rd century crisis, as Emperor after Emperor debased the currency to pay their soldiers. The _sesterce_ was abolished by the coinage reforms that followed due to rampant inflation.

[ii] Tarraco, modern-day Tarragonoa, was the oldest Roman settlement in Hispania and one of its most important cities.

[iii] Historically, Massinissa II was one of the last kings of Numidia. At the time of his reign, the kingdom had been divided in two by the Romans, one in the west and one in the east. Numidia would be annexed by Rome soon after.

[iv] Melita was the Latin name for Malta. The island was originally a Greek colony and fell into Roman control at the start of the Second Punic War, a century and half before Caesar’s Civil War.

[v] The word _barbarian_ as it was originally coined, was to used by the Greeks to describe non-Greek speakers. Though the Romans officially considered all those outside their borders to be barbarians, they recognized Parthia/Persia as a civilization equal to their own.

[vi] Nisibis was Hellenistic city in the East. It was a major military fort and a key point of contention between the Romans and the Parthians, changing hands between them several times. The Sassanian Dynasty rose to power in Persia in the 3rd century and seized it from the Romans for good after a major military victory in the following century. It then became the base of Sassanian military operations against the Romans until it was captured by the Arabs in the 7th century.

[vii] The _century_ was the basic tactical unit of the legion. Each _century_ was commanded by a centurion, who usually had considerable latitude of independent action to give the legion greater tactical flexibility. Eighty men formed a _century_ and six _centuries_ formed a cohort. The centurion of the first century was the most senior and commanded the cohort overall in battle. The first cohort of every legion had five double-strength _centuries._ The centurion of the first _century_ of the first cohort was therefore the most senior centurion of the entire legion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be many more battles to come, both physically and mentally.
> 
> The mystery continues. Caroline has been mentioned a lot lately, hasn't she? What are you guys' theories about her?
> 
> I originally had Alaric spar Josh, but decided to save him for later.
> 
> They will be on the move in the next chapter! Hosie will return to the forefront of the story and the war will continue to progress. To make up for the lack of Hope, there will be more scenes in Hope's perspective coming up next.
> 
> From now on, I will update once every 8-12 days (I will try to make it 8 rather than 12), depending on how much progress I make and how busy life is in general. I know it's a lot less frequent than once every other day, but I'm committing to try my best to stick to that schedule until this story wraps up, and it's a pretty big commitment for me given my tendency not to follow things through.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading. Please leave a kudo if you've enjoyed the story so far and leave a comment to let me know what you think. Your support is what drives me to keep going and write that next chapter. Until next time!
> 
> Trivia Time
> 
> Woe befell every general of the Roman Republic who had designs on Parthia. Marcus Licinius Crassus was the first. Possessed by greed and jealous of his rivals' military accomplishments, he invaded Parthia and was led into an ambush. The Parthians picked off the bulk of his army and killed Crassus by pouring molten gold down his throat to mock his greed.
> 
> Caesar was the next. Obsessed with emulating Alexander and intending to cement his position as dictator for life with glory, Caesar planned to invade Parthia. Shortly before he was due to depart for the campaign, Caesar was assassinated, and the legions he had raised in Macedonia were later requisitioned by his assassins to fight for the Republic's restoration.
> 
> Marc Antony was the last. He was Caesar's top lieutenant and allied himself with Octavian, Caesar's heir, to defeat Caesar's assassins. Antony invaded Parthia with an army of over 100,000, ostensibly to avenge Crassus, and in truth to gain wealth and glory for his rivalry with Octavian. Antony's arrogance and mismanagement allowed the Parthians to ambush him, and he was forced to retreat. The humiliating defeat shattered his reputation as a military genius and cost him the respect of his men. A few years later, he would be defeated by Octavian in the final civil war of the Republic.
> 
> Octavian, who was by then known as Augustus, the first Emperor, signed a peace treaty with Parthia and secured the return of the eagles and prisoners the Parthians had captured from Crassus. He propagated this as a conquest through diplomacy and oversaw a long reign marked by stability and prosperity.


	12. the tidal waves never stop coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few important conversations are had en route Dyrrachium.

"Alright," Damon dropped a thick stack of parchments on the table, "The complete story of Jackson Kenner, legate of _Legio XIV Victrix._ "[i]

"What did you find?" Josie asked.

"Humble origins, as you might expect for a man of the legion," Damon answered, "Born to farmers in the Italian countryside. His father was conscripted by Papa Mikaelson to crush Spartacus' rebellion, lost his life in the fighting. His mother was killed by bandits and his family's farm was swallowed up by nobles who owned property nearby. The new owners drove him out and brought in slaves to work his family land."[ii][iii]

"How awful," Josie shook her head, "and all too common. No wonder the towns of Italy opened their gates to Klaus."

"Yes, no wonder," Damon muttered sadly, "It's only by Jupiter's mercy that he has not yet put our heads on pikes."

_We can't go on like business as usual when the war is over. Things have got to change._

Josie shook off her melancholy, "What else?"

"After losing his family land, he went to Rome and apparently lied about his age to enlist in the legion. Participated in a few battles at the tail of the rebellion and was noted for his bravery." Damon continued, "He stayed in the legion and joined Lucien Castle's Armenian expedition as a junior officer a half-decade later. He distinguished himself there and was promoted to centurion. Afterward, his unit was sent to Germania to reinforce Elijah Mikaelson. By the end of the German campaign, he was _primus pilus._ "[iv][v]

"Impressive, to be made _primus pilus_ after just over a decade in the legion," Josie commented, "How old was he, thirty?"

"Less," replied Damon, "It would not surprise me if he broke the record, if there was one."

"After that?"

"Some years after Germania, he volunteered for Macedonia, where there was some trouble with the Dardanians to the north," Damon picked up a piece of parchment, "His camp came under, I quote, 'a massive barbarian attack.' The camp commander was killed and Jackson rallied the men and repelled the Dardanians. He was outnumbered quite heavily too, according to the official report. This earned him a formal commemoration, and he was lent to the new governor of Crete and Cyrenaica for a surveying operation."[vi][vii]

_A fine soldier._

"He said Klaus saved his life there," Josie remembered.

"Yes, it is in the Senate's official records," Damon nodded, "Rome was not expecting trouble and only sent a minimal number of men with him. While he was in Crete, two villages revolted and kidnapped Jackson and his company, along with the governor and his staff. This is where Klaus comes into his story."

"He held an office that year, I presume?" Josie remarked.

"His first praetorship, actually," Damon affirmed, "When news arrived in Rome, Klaus demanded to be sent to Crete to deal with the upstarts. Crete was a backwater and the revolt was so small it could barely be called that, so the Senate humored him. The report does not mention Jackson again after the kidnapping. In fact, it is almost entirely devoted to Klaus' actions on the island."

"I can imagine what it says given Klaus' reputation," Josie commented dryly.

"You certainly can," Damon replied, "In fact, Crete was where he acquired his reputation. I assume you have heard stories from Gaul?"

_Pillage. Rape. Murder._

Josie nodded.

"The same fate befell Crete," Damon continued, "Klaus' men burned the villages to the ground and slaughtered everything that moved. Men. Women. Children. Animals. And they didn't stop there. They plundered every city, town, and village in Crete, murdering and raping as they went. It was immaterial to Klaus whether they were guilty. He wanted their money and took it. By the time he finished, the island was emptied of its treasures. So shocking were his actions that Klaus was almost prosecuted upon his return." Damon looked affronted, "He and his brother flexed their muscles and had the Senate declare that all of Crete had been in revolt, and therefore his actions were justified. The governor resigned in protest."[viii]

"That is disgusting," Josie could only shake her head, "The barbarity of that monster and the corruption of the Senate for letting him get away with it."

"The moral degradation of the Senate is tragic," Damon agreed, "As is that of the _res publica._ "

_Something will have to be done about that when the war is over._

"I don't suppose your records mention how Jackson felt about all that?"

"No," Damon shook his head, "But it is not difficult to deduce. After returning to Rome, Jackson asked to be discharged from the legion. He declined admission to the equestrian order and took up horse breeding. He stayed out of public life for well over a decade until Klaus called him to Gaul and put him in command of the 14th legion. Here," Damon handed Josie a stack of documents, "I have page after page attesting to his valor and leadership in Gaul. By all accounts, he is a capable commander respected by his men, and a merciful one. He issued a standing order forbidding his men from raping and unnecessarily killing civilians, but Klaus countermanded him."[ix]

Josie remembered a saying in Rome then. If something makes your skin crawl, a Mikaelson probably had a hand in it.

"Thank you, Damon. This is thorough work," Josie nodded, "It is my view that there should not be any harm in passing his letter onto Hope."

"I concur."

"It is decided then. Is there anything from your research that indicates how he might know Hope?"

"No, there is scant information on his private life," Damon replied, "Just that he was married once, and his wife died not long into their marriage."

"They must have crossed paths at some point during the Gallic war then," Josie said, "As for Jackson, he could be useful to us. If he truly disapproves of Klaus' savagery, then he may yet be turned."

"Doubtful," Damon sounded quite certain and rummaged through the parchments, "Have a read yourself. Richard Lockwood thought the same thing a few years ago and tried to recruit him as a spy. Jackson sent Lockwood his messenger's head and turned the bribe over to Klaus. His loyalty to Klaus will make swaying his allegiance difficult."

Josie thought of Hope. Beautiful, kind, loyal Hope - loyal to a fault, and more stubborn than a rock.

"He would not be the most difficult case I have worked on."

* * *

They started marching a few days ago.

Hope wasn't exactly sure why - Josie kept a tight lip about it, only telling her that their destination was Dyrrachium. Hope didn't mind though. She was happy to roam under the sun on horseback; it was more freedom than she'd had since being taken captive by Logan Fell.

She gave a large portion of her dinner to Apollo as offering every night to convey her gratitude, though the sun god probably did not terribly appreciate it given how foul the food was.

Josie always rode beside her. They had ridden at the head of the column at first, with Josie's father and other senior members of the party. But after one too many rotten look from Donovan and co., Josie pulled them back to the middle of the caravan. Landon came with them because he was Josie's bodyguard, and Lizzie too because apparently she and Landon are a package deal now. Those two were riding some distance ahead of Josie and her, bantering as always.

"I did always want to see Greece."

"And is it meeting your expectations?"

"It far exceeds them," Hope smiled at Josie, "Since I get to see it with you."

Josie gave her a look so soft that Hope thought she was going to melt, "I'm glad we get to see it together."

Her breath stilled.

_How can someone be so beautiful?_

"Although truthfully, I had no idea the Gods put so many mountains in Greece," Hope said instead, forcing her voice to remain steady to hide the fact that her heart was racing. Josie chuckled.

"It's one of its less-talked aspects, though no less marvelous if you ask me." The brunette looked into the distance, contemplative. Hope followed her line of sight, finding a forbidding ridge that stretched beyond the confines of her vision.

"Certainly, they are awe-inspiring."

"The Persians conquered the rivers of Lydia, the sands of Syria, and the heat of Egypt, but they could not conquer the mountains of Greece," Josie's gaze returned to Hope. "You might even call that an attestation that the Gods of Greece are ancient and powerful."[x]

"Only a fool would question that," Hope replied, "But the crown has passed onto Jupiter now."

"That is true," Josie nodded, "These mountains did not save Perseus from Aemilius Paulus."[xi][xii]

"The question is," Hope's eyes met Josie's, "Will they save your father from mine?"

They held each other's gaze for a long moment.

"I do not know," Josie was the one who broke eye contact, "If the Gods have mercy, perhaps."

"The Gods have no mercy, Jo," Brown met blue again, "We are but their playthings. The more we suffer, the more it amuses them."

"That is awfully cynical."

"Do you disagree?"

"The Gods know every mortal's number," A faraway look crossed Josie's face, "They will render their judgment when we look upon the gates of the Underworld. The virtuous will go to Elysium and the sinners will suffer in the Field of Punishment. Those who lived wholly forgettable lives will go to the Asphodel Meadows and linger without purpose in death as they did in life."

_Only someone with a heart as pure as Josie's could believe that._

"I have no patience for Minos to bang his staff," Hope shook her head.[xiii]

"If we don't," Josie's eyes were big and brown, warm and intelligent, gorgeous and setting off butterflies in Hope's stomach, "How are we to make sense of it all?"

_Existence makes sense to me as long as you are by my side, Jo._

"Maybe it cannot be made sense of," Hope held back her declaration, "Maybe some people are simply good and some are simply bad. Maybe the Gods have a grand design that requires everyone to play the role they've been given, or maybe the Gods merely flip a coin every time a person comes into this world. Either way, we only invite misery by pretending we can change human nature. Those who are befitted by the Gods to bear dishonor will lead a dishonorable life. Those who are not will meet Pluto before they dishonor themselves. Those who can bear the shame of excusing or even abetting dishonor will condone it, whether they do so with agony or apathy. And those who cannot will endeavor to prevent or right it."

With a start, Hope realized that her thoughts had wandered to her father. She had thought about her father a lot since the murder of Jeremy Gilbert. About how he could be capable of such a monstrosity. For the longest time, he was a gentle and loving father. He whispered to her stories of heroes and legends, of Lupa and the twins, of Hippolyta and the Amazons, of Diana and her hunters. He showed her how to mix paint from berries, how to make brushes from hog hair, how to build an easel from blocks of wood. Hope hang onto his every word.[xiv]

Then one day, it stopped. Her father became cold and distant, always occupied with his duties just as her family dwindled. Her grandfather died first - of natural causes, her father said. Finn was next - his murder was never resolved. Hope couldn't say she was distraught over either - Finn was always aloof, and Hope could count with one hand all the times she had ever met Mikael. Then Freya and Rebekah disappeared on the same day and Elijah was forced to go into exile, leaving just Kol, who was never the same again without his younger sister.

Hope thought if she just worked harder and added more accomplishments to the Mikaelson name, that if she just made him proud, her father would look at her with that warmth and love again.

What a fool she had been.

She wondered what happened to her father, what turned him into the monster he is today. She tried to tell herself that he was simply evil, that it was in his nature to be cruel and hateful, and that nothing could change that. Hope was sure she'd feel better if she could believe that, but she couldn't. Her father was capable of love - she had seen it with her own eyes - and how could someone be inherently evil if they could be gentle and loving?

Hope thought about herself too. She thought about all the times she looked away when her father did something terrible. Did her denial - delusion, even, make her an accomplice in her father's misdeeds? Did that make her just as bad as him? How could she possibly make amends for her willful ignorance?

Hope didn't have an answer.

"Hey." Hope blinked, "Hey. Hope."

She must have spaced out because Josie was saying her name, and the brunette looked like she had been doing it for some time.

"Sorry," Hope muttered, "My mind was elsewhere."

"I could tell," Josie looked at her with worried eyes, "Are you okay, Hope?"

"Yeah. I was just-" Hope hesitated. "There is a lot on my mind."

Josie's expression turned to one of sympathy, "I know the feeling."

Silence befell them for a beat.

"I forgot entirely!" Josie exclaimed. She dug through her pouch and pulled a scroll from it, "I have a letter for you."

"A letter?" Hope was not expecting that, "I cannot even remember the last time I received one. Must have been from my uncle Kol before I set off with the Ionian fleet."

"A legate of your father gave it to me shortly after we finished negotiating for the return of our dead," Josie explained, "I couldn't give it to you until Damon had completed a background check. The legate said he knew you. Jackson Kenner?"

"Jackson! Of course." Joy filled Hope and she hurriedly unscrolled the letter, her eyes alight, "He is my stepfather."

Jackson's letter was brief. He spoke of how relieved he was when he learned that she was alive, assured her that he missed her dearly, and told her to stay strong and that he was praying for her every day. Jackson ended his letter with a promise that he will try to get word to her again. Hope knew that was unlikely but it didn't dampen her spirit. Hearing from Jackson alone made her day.

"He married your mother?" Josie waited until she was finished with the letter.

"That's what that word means."

"Damon said he was married once and his wife died not long after."

Hope felt a pang at the mention of her mother and nodded again.

"I'm sorry," Josie's gaze was soft and kind, "How did she die?"

Hope's instinct was to say no. She had never talked about her mother with anyone in years - not even with Jackson. But Josie was looking at her with those big, beautiful brown eyes that she couldn't seem to say no to, and words leaped from Hope's tongue of their own accord.

"We were in Campania," Hope smiled ruefully, "I remember what a beautiful day it was. The three of us were going to have a picnic in the garden. We went outside and- and-" Hope took a deep breath, blinking back tears, "My mother just fainted and never woke up. The physician said she must have had an illness that we didn't know about. My father stopped having time for me long before that. He didn't even come to her funeral. Jackson has looked after me ever since."

"I am sure your mother would be proud of you if she saw the strong, beautiful, extraordinary woman you are today," Josie's gentle, beautiful voice that Hope had come to love reached her ears, and all she could feel was gratitude, because despite all the people she'd lost, despite the terrible things that were happening, she had Josie, and that was enough for her.

* * *

"What do you think they are talking about?" Lizzie looked behind her. Her sister was engrossed in conversation with Hope and didn't notice her.

"Could be anything," Landon shrugged, "The weather, perhaps?"

Lizzie rolled her eyes.

"Not everyone is as boring as you, bird boy."

"Back to bird boy now, are we ma'am?"

A teasing grin on his face.

A flutter of her heart.

Lizzie punched Landon's arm.

"Shut up."

"They do look awfully chummy though, do they not?"

Landon glanced at the duo, "Yes, that seems an accurate observation."

"I hope Josie knows what she's doing," Lizzie sighed. "I have never seen anyone make her act this way."

Landon seemed confused, "And that is bad?"

"Use that bird brain of yours, Landon," Lizzie rolled her eyes again, "Our father and Hope's are still leading opposite sides of the war. Hope may be upset with her father now, but at the end of the day, he is still her father. And she said it herself, those Mikaelson words that family always comes first matter to her, even if they don't to Klaus. When push comes to shove, who's to say that she won't go running back to her father?"

"Klaus turned his back on her, said he cared not for whether she lived or died," Landon was surprised, "Surely she would not forgive him."

"Do you have a family, Landon?" Lizzie asked.

"Aye," He nodded, "My mother lives in the country of Aquinum."

"Is there anything you would not do for her?"

"Absolutely not," Landon replied without hesitation, "My craven for a father ran away when he learned that my mother was with child. She nurtured and raised me to the man I am today by herself. I owe everything to her. I would proudly give my life for her."

"Then by that reasoning, would you not forgive her if she betrayed you?"

Landon seemed hesitant, "What Klaus did was no simple betrayal. He left her to the wolves."

"And what you gave was not an answer to my question. Would you not give your mother your forgiveness, or at least a chance to earn it, even if she hurt you deeply?"

"I-" Landon opened his mouth, but he could not answer.

"You understand then," Lizzie looked at Landon with soft eyes, "the bond of family. If someone betrayed me the way Hope's father did her, I would never forgive them. But I might for my father or Josie. We love our family, and that drives us to do irrational things, things that we would not even think of doing for anyone else. I cannot imagine what must be going through Hope's mind right now."

Lizzie shook her head, "My sister is a gentle soul. She takes care of people - it's what she's done for me all our lives. She freely gives and never asks for anything in return. If Josie gives her heart to Hope, and Hope breaks it, even if she doesn't mean to-"

Lizzie couldn't finish that train of thought.

* * *

"-the 20th legion will march ahead as advanced guard, and make initial contact with Tristan de Martel," Alaric said, "the rest of the column will follow a day's march behind. That concludes this afternoon's meeting. Colleagues."

Alaric watched Josie make her way out of the tent, probably to find Hope. He was well aware that his daughter had spent virtually every waking second with Hope since the incident with the _pilum,_ and he would be lying if he said he was not concerned - he was not blind to Josie's feelings for the other woman. He had been in love before, and he saw the subtle glint in Josie's eyes every time she talked about Hope. Hope had saved Josie's life, true, and he was undeniably grateful to the auburn-haired woman for it. But the fundamental issue underlying their relationship remained - he and Klaus were at war.

And as personal as the war had become in the wake of Jeremy's murder, it would become more personal still for Josie and Hope as it progresses, and Klaus inches closer to defeat. If Hope remains loyal to her father, judgment would inevitably follow after the war. Had she been the daughter of any other noble, Alaric could perhaps use his influence as Consul to secure a pardon for her. But she was the daughter of the renegade himself, and she commanded a fleet against the cause of the _res publica,_ he would be lynched by a mob if he suggested such a thing. If Rome's mood was lenient, she might be shown mercy on account of her youth, and be allowed to go into exile. But if it was not, she would be thrown off the Rock.

That would break Josie's heart.

For his daughter's sake, and that of the _res publica,_ Alaric hoped that Hope would switch her loyalty to them soon.

"Colleague," Alaric blinked and found Richard Lockwood approaching him, "Might I take up some of your time?"

"Of course, colleague," Alaric replied amiably, "I trust that you are feeling well?"

"As well as can be expected of an old man halfway to Pluto," Lockwood chuckled, and carefully set his cane aside. Standing unaided did not seem to strain him as much as it did weeks prior, "I only hope to see the _res publica_ restored before the lord of the Underworld receives me."

"You need not be so pessimistic. You could see the _res publica_ prosper in the years to come - decades, even."

Lockwood waved, "And you need not be so damn polite. I am not long on this earth now, colleague. Meredith said that episode of heart distress could easily have killed me. It is by Apollo's blessing that I am on my feet right now."

"Meredith makes... severe judgments," was the best Alaric could offer.

"But not foolish ones," Lockwood lowered himself onto a chair slowly, "I am a bloody hypocrite. The whole pack of us are, but I am far and away the worst. I have told people that everything I do is for the _res publica_ my entire political career. That is an abject lie. For all my pretensions to nobility, my motivations are entirely selfish. Everything I did was for Tyler." Lockwood paused, looking sorrowful, "I wanted him to live a long and happy life, in a safe and prosperous society. That has been taken away from me, but you, my co-Consul," Lockwood's eyes were piercing, "you still have your daughters to fight for."

What do you say to someone who has made peace with death?

Alaric did have to answer to that. He kept quiet instead.

"You were right, you know, about Spain," Lockwood continued, and Alaric was so shocked that he almost fell, "We could have been allies. We should have been allies, but I was too damn stubborn to see it - I wonder, how many good Romans would still be alive today if I hadn't been?"

Richard Lockwood had been Alaric's most bitter Senatorial opponent during the Spanish war. He called him a traitor to everything the _res publica_ stood for, and demanded the Senate tear up the peace treaty and mount his head on a pike. Now he was apologizing and admitting that he had been in the wrong? Blood rushed to his head and Alaric felt dizzy, "Richard-"

"My apology is a few decades late, I know," Lockwood held up his hand, "I hope you will forgive a foolish old man."

Alaric squeezed his eyes shut and images flashed in front of him. Of what he had lost in Spain. Of what Richard Lockwood had cost him - a pair of empty green eyes, a life that was taken from him, a vow that would never be fulfilled, and Alaric felt as if a dagger was dragged across his chest, burning and icy all at once. He clenched his fist. Thinking about it hurt - much more than he thought it would. Then again, it should not have surprised him. He could not forget those images. He buried them deep inside his mind for over twenty years, but he could not forget them. He could never forget those green eyes. How expressive and vibrant they were. How they once looked at him with such love and passion. How empty they became in the last few months, void of life long before the soul exited the body.

How could he hold Richard Lockwood with anything other than resentment when he, more than anyone except Elijah Mikaelson, sucked the life from those eyes?

Then he thought of his daughters, of Josie and Lizzie, and tension drained from his body. His sorrow was more than words could describe, more than any soul should know, more than even the Gods - cruel as they are - would force a person to bear. But if not for what happened, the twins never would have been born, and Alaric would not trade them for the world. And he would bear that sorrow all over again if it meant having Josie and Lizzie in his life.

Slowly, he unclenched his fist and exhaled long and deep.

"I hated you truly and profusely for years - more than I could count. How could I not?" Alaric chuckled dryly, the searing pain in his chest had faded into a dull ache. "There I was, risking everything to carry on the struggle in Spain, while you were viciously denouncing me from the comfort of your home in Rome. I cursed your name and prayed that Jupiter would cast a bolt of lightning from heaven and strike you down." Alaric released a shuddering breath. "But hate you as I did, I could not deny that you were doing what you thought was right by our _res publica,_ by Rome, the same as me." Alaric met Lockwood's eyes then, "Had you cared for money or power, or even your own safety, you would have condemned me as a means to gain the tyrant's favor. Instead, you castigated us both because you thought we were both in the wrong. Because you care about your principles in a city full of men who would sooner murder their own mother than harm their prospects of career advancement. I hated you, but I could not hold it against you, because I respected you - admired you, even, despite all the sorrow you caused me."

Alaric held out his forearm and Lockwood grasped it firmly.

"Thank you, brother," Lockwood said. Alaric thought his eyes appeared moisty, but he didn't mention it, and glanced away when the other man swiped a hand across his face, "If- If I meet the Gods before Klaus, as I suspect I will," Lockwood drew in a breath sharply, "You must fight on. You must not rest until the renegade is defeated and Rome is safe for your daughters once more."

"You have my word," Alaric looked him in the eye and uttered the words solemnly.

"I have one last request, that I be allowed to ride ahead with the 20th legion to meet Tristan de Martel."

"May I ask why?"

"I have stayed behind while other men fought for the _res publica_ my whole life. I wish to be on the front for once, and do my duty as a Roman."

"I will not deny you if that is truly what you wish," Alaric said, "and you have done your duty as a Roman better than most."

For the first time in his life, Alaric saw a smile on Richard Lockwood's face, "Not as well as you, my General."

* * *

"Are you about to serenade me?"

Josie grinned at her cheekily, "Wouldn't you like that?"

"Perhaps I would," Hope gave her a coy look. There was a pool of darkness gathering in her blue orbs that made Josie's heart flutter.

"You told me you've never heard a _pandoura_ before," Josie picked up her instrument, hiding her blushing cheeks behind a sheet of hair, "And I promised you I would rectify that."

"A Roman always keeps her promise," Hope plopped down on her palliasse and made herself comfortable, while Josie sat on a chair opposite Hope.

She felt the heat of Hope's gaze on her as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm her beating heart. Then, with fingers that were slightly trembling and a voice that was a little too high to be poised, Josie threaded her fingers through the strings of her _pandoura_ and sang.

_I wanna take you somewhere so you know I care_

_But it's so cold and I don't know where_

_I brought you daffodils in a pretty string_

_But they won't flower like they did last spring_

_And I wanna kiss you, make you feel alright_

_I'm just so tired to share my nights_

_I wanna cry and I wanna love_

_But all my tears have been used up_

Josie dared a glance at Hope. Brown eyes met a pair of blue orbs staring at them with such intensity that Josie involuntarily sucked in a sharp breath.

_On another love, another love_

_All my tears have been used up_

_On another love, another love_

_All my tears have been used up_

_And if somebody hurts you, I wanna fight_

_But my hands been broken, one to many times_

_So I'll use my voice, I'll be so fucking rude_

_Words they always win but I know I'll lose_

Josie felt Hope get up from her palliasse and kneel in front of her. Hope was close - so close that Josie could feel the warmth of her breath tingling her cheeks, whistling past her hair gently. Her cheek gained color and she was sure it wasn't just because of the heat. But Josie didn't dare to look at those blue orbs, not when she knew that she would be held captive by them the second they did, not when she knew that she might not have the will to tear her eyes away from them, not when she knew that she might keep staring at them until she forgets her own name.

She glued her eyes on her _pandoura_ and focused on the feeling of the strings on her fingertips and her thorax vibrating as words left her mouth.

_And I'd sing a song, that'd be just ours_

_But I sang 'em all to another heart_

_And I wanna cry I wanna learn to love_

_But all my tears have been used up_

_On another love, another love_

_All my tears have been used up_

_On another love, another love_

_All my tears have been used up_

Josie finally allowed herself to look at Hope. The auburn-haired woman was staring at her with water brimming in her impossibly blue eyes, exquisite and mesmerizing like sapphire. There were so many emotions on Hope's face that it dazzled Josie. Longing, regret, pain, hope, lov-

"Josie," Hope's voice was shaking, "I-"

_I care about you? I might love you? I wish we can be together but we can't because you can't turn your back on your father and I've dedicated myself to the res publica?_

"I know," Josie said instead.

Hope was no Helen and Josie was no Paris.

They are Romans. Romans don't put love before duty. Romans can't. Romans won't.

"I know," She said again and Hope launched herself at Josie.

The two of them stood in each other's arms for a long time in Hope's tent, not moving, not breaking away, because the second they did, they would have to return to reality.

And the reality was, there was still a war between them.

* * *

[i] Each legion had a number and a cognomen – a title – attached to it, often the place where it was created. _Legio XIV Victrix_ means 14th Legion Victorious. Historically, the 14th legion’s cognomen was _Gemina_ – Twin; the cognomen _Victrix_ was attached to the 6th and the 12th legions.

[ii] Spartacus’ rebellion, also known as the Third Servile War, was the third and by far the most serious slave revolt against the Roman Republic. Spartacus, a gladiator himself, had a large number of fellow gladiators with him. The gladiators were able to train the large number of slaves who joined them into a formidable fighting force and defeated a number of legions in battle in the Italian heartland. The rebellion was eventually defeated by the armies of Crassus and Pompey.

[iii] Legions during the early republican era were raised by conscripting farmers when needed, based on the rationale that farmers had more to lose than the landless, and would therefore be more motivated in defending the Republic. The system of conscripting farmer-soldiers was eventually abolished by Marius, who saw the need of a professional, standing army. Conscription was still used, but only during times of supreme crisis due to its unpopularity.

[iv] Only male citizens at least 17 years old could join the legion. However, it is likely that this was not adhered to very strictly.

[v] _Primus Pilus_ – First File. The centurion who commanded the first century of the first cohort of a legion, and thereby the most senior centurion of the entire legion.

[vi] The Dardanians were an Illyrian tribe who resided north of Macedonia. Their incursions into Greece began long before Roman conquest and continued well into the Roman era. The Dardanians sided with Perseus of Macedon against the Romans during the Third Macedonian War and was promptly defeated and made a Roman protectorate. However, they were not truly pacified by the Romans for at least another century.

[vii] The Romans governed the Greek island of Crete and the Libyan region of Cyrenaica as a single province. The province’s administrative center was in Crete. It is generally unclear to historians why the Romans jointed the two regions as they had very little in common, though a number of theories have been proposed.

[viii] The Romans often conducted war with considerable brutality and violence, but in a systematic, calculated way to inspire terror and therefore obedience. It was common for the Romans to slaughter all animals in a city or town that defied them in order to maximize the terror inspired.

[ix] Romans conducted a census every five years. Two censors were appointed from the most reputable and respected of citizens who would scrutinize each citizen and sort them into social orders based on wealth. The senatorial order was the very pinnacle of Roman society. However, one had to have been a member of the equestrian order to qualify for membership of the Senate. The equestrian order was originally used to describe citizens wealthy enough to purchase their own horses for military service, and served as cavalry in the legion. Though looked down upon by the senatorial order, members of the equestrian order were incredibly wealthy and influential, far more so than lower social classes. Senior officers in the legion were often admitted to the equestrian order upon retirement.

[x] Lydia was a historic region in the western part of Asia Minor, before the region became Hellenized.

[xi] Perseus was the last King of Macedon. He fought the Romans during the Third Macedonian War, and had by then become the figurehead of Greek resistance to Roman imperialism. He achieved considerable success in during the first three years of the war.

[xii] Paulus Aemilius was given command of the Third Macedonian War during its fourth year. His appointment had considerable support in the Senate as the war had been going far less well than anticipated, and Aemilius was an experienced commander. He met Perseus in battle at Pydna and won decisively. The Romans then ended Macedonia’s existence as an independent kingdom.

[xiii] In Greek Mythology, Minos was a judge of the dead in the Underworld.

[xiv] In Roman Mythology, Lupa, or She-Wolf, raised the twins Romulus and Remus, founders of Rome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you guys say you wanted more Hosie? I think it's safe to say that Josie knows she has very strong feelings for Hope.
> 
> The song Josie sang is Another Love, which in my view fits their relationship in this story quite well.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Not gonna lie, my creative juices are kinda dry at the moment. It would be the world to me right now if you could support me and leave a kudo and a comment. That will drive me to keep going at this draft that I'm slogging through.
> 
> Trivia Time
> 
> The Via Egnatia was a key Roman highway in the East. It was constructed in the 2nd century from Dyrrachium to Byzantion, the nexus of East-West trade, and later greatly expanded into Constantinople, capital of the Roman East. The road crossed lakes, mountain passes, and highlands, and was originally conceived to link a chain of Roman colonies in the East.


	13. my soul quivers at the storm in your eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josie and Hope continue to struggle with their feelings for each other, while Damon's spies bring troubling news from the West.

"What's with the two of you?"

Josie glanced at her sister.

"What do you mean?"

Lizzie, predictably, rolled her eyes.

"What's with you and Hope?"

_You mean other than the fact that I basically professed my love for her and I think she might actually feel the same, but none of that matters because there is still a war going on and we can't be together as long as we are on opposite sides?_

Josie shrugged instead, "Nothing."

Lizzie huffed, "Do not play coy with me, Josette, I can see out of my eyes. Something is different between the two of you."

Her sister wasn't wrong. Something had changed between Hope and her since their moment in Hope's tent three nights ago. A touch here and there, lingering looks at each other, secret smiles when nobody else is watching. None of them was exactly a declaration of love, and all of them could be plausibly seen as platonic, but her father had once told her that people more often than not say I love you in ways other than words. Like painting a picture of you. Or taking care of you when you are hurt.

_Or jumping in front of a pilum for you._

Not that she was going to tell Lizzie any of that.

"What's going on with you and Landon then?" Josie retorted.

"That is a terrible attempt at distraction," Lizzie rolled her eyes in an overly dramatic way that was clearly an attempt at distraction, "There is nothing going on between bird boy and me. And even if there is, we are about as different from you and shortcake over there as it gets."

Josie looked at Lizzie, puzzled.

_What the fuck is a shortcake? **[i]**_

"It's complicated."

"Of course it's complicated," Lizzie shot her a pointed look, "Everything is complicated. And nothing ever works itself out if that's what you are waiting for."

Josie once again found herself wondering when Lizzie had become so wise.

_"Since my sister met someone who makes her happy."_

She uttered those words months ago. Remembering them made Josie flush. Were her feelings for Hope obvious to everyone but herself this whole time?

"What do you want me to say, Lizzie?" Josie sighed, "That I have feelings for Hope? I'm not going to deny it. You wouldn't believe me even if I did." Her chest was stuffed with anxiety, "Hope probably feels the same."

Lizzie snickered, 'Probably?"

Josie ignored her.

"But how we feel about each other doesn't matter, not when there is a war between us. War and romance do not mix well, the ruins of Troy will attest to that."

"There's no need to be so dramatic," Lizzie said without her characteristic snark, but with a gentleness that surprised Josie, "I doubt the Gods would put Rome to torch simply because you and Hope were together."

"They just might," Josie shook her head, feeling a sadness so profound that she could not describe it with words. Hope's assertion that they were but the Gods' playthings rang true, "Our plight is the Gods' pastime."

"How will they enjoy our plight if we are too dead to be miserable?"

"Perhaps you are right," Josie conceded her sister's point, "But Hope and I still owe our allegiances to opposite sides of this bitter conflict, and I do not see how a romance could end in anything but tragedy. Being together will only hurt us in the end."

"Not if she joins our side." Lizzie was undeterred, "That is what you have been trying to convince her to do, is it not? Who is to say you will not succeed?"

Josie chuckled wryly, "I am more likely to talk down a barbarian king at the head of an army than change Hope's mind once it's made. She despises the Senate - not that I blame her, I have little love for those corrupt bastards myself. She will never choose them over her father."

"She doesn't have to choose the Senate," Lizzie gave her a pointed look, "She just has to choose you."

Josie's cheeks burned like a forest ablaze. Her heart pounded, her breath caught in her throat, and her mind wandered like a galloping stallion. Josie was fairly certain that Hope felt something for her - loved her, even. But did Hope love her enough to betray her father just to be with her? Would Hope risk it all for her?

_Would I?_

Josie didn't have an answer.

She turned to Lizzie and only managed a shake of her head, her throat suddenly feeling too raw for words to pass. Luckily, her sister seemed to know the conflict that was raging in Josie's mind. Lizzie laid a hand on her arm and gave her the softest look she had ever seen on her twin's face, "I may not be as smart as you, Jo, but I do know we that do not live in times conducive to happy endings. But that doesn't mean you should let your fears of what tomorrow might bring deny yourself the chance to be happy today. On the contrary, you should go after what your heart desires precisely because there's no telling if you will ever get another chance to."

"I-" Josie swallowed, "I want that, Lizzie. Believe me, I want to be with Hope. I want to be with her more than anything in the world. But if being with her does not lead to a happy ending, as I fear, then it will not just hurt me. It will hurt Hope too, and I cannot be the cause of her pain. Not when she has already suffered so much."

Lizzie looked at Josie the way a good sister would. Like she was desperate to chase away the sorrow in her eyes and the fear in her heart, to dispel the dark clouds behind which her happiness hid and bridge the gulf between her and Hope - like she was despairing because she knew she couldn't. Lizzie closed her eyes and took a long moment to compose herself. When her eyes fluttered open again, they were calm and even. But underneath the sea of serenity was an emotion that Josie knew all too well - a sadness more profound than words could describe.

"The way I see it," Lizzie's voice was gentle and full of sympathy, "You are in plenty of anguish as is - the both of you. Being so close every day but not as close as you both want hurts you, and if it is going to hurt whether or not you are together, why not just give your hearts what they want? At least the pain will be for something."

Once again, an answer eluded Josie.

* * *

Josie left Hope that morning, citing a desire to spend some time with her sister. Hope couldn't fault her - if she had a sibling, Hope supposed she would want to spend as time with them as she could too. That left her with Landon, who proved himself surprisingly decent company.

"General Saltzman told us about the Cantabri, his staunchest allies among the Spanish people," Landon was saying, "He told us that the Cantabri are the most skilled mounted warriors he has ever seen. They would ride their steeds at a gallop in circles and throw javelins with incredible accuracy. He calls it-"

" _-circulus cantabricus,_ I know, I am reading his book," Hope finished, "He says the maneuver won him quite a few battles. Not surprising, I suppose, when they can both outmaneuver and outrange the legion."[ii]

As it turned out, they both liked horses.

"The General tried to train us in that tactic-"

"-but it is too difficult?"

"Quite," Landon nodded, "It is difficult enough to swing a blade or shoot an arrow on horseback. To throw a _pilum_ while maintaining one's balance on a galloping horse requires talent that most simply are not blessed with. I have never seen anyone accomplish it."

That puzzled Hope, "Surely, he had a few Cantabrians demonstrate?"

"They are a people who prefer to be left alone, much less venture outside their mountains," Landon shook his head. "General Saltzman simply asked a few of his best riders to explore the possibility. After a few dead horses, many broken bones, and even more _pila_ that ended up in the most bizarre of places - one somehow took off the tail of its thrower's horse," Landon shook his head with a chuckle, "We determined such a possibility did not exist."

"Well," Memory rushed to Hope's mind - her galley on blue waves, Kol's war camp on scorched earth, Gallic warriors on wild steeds, "I saw it once during the Gallic war. A band of Gauls on horseback rained a volley of javelins on my uncle's men while retreating - not dissimilar from the famous Parthian shot, if you will. Casualties were numerous, but what a marvelous sight it was. Terrible, but marvelous, and not one I will ever forget. We could not do anything about them - pursuing was suicide, not that we could catch them on foot, and locking shields meant letting them withdraw, rally, and attack us again."[iii]

"The Gauls got away then?" Landon regarded her with orbs tinged with both envy and curiosity.

"Not quite," Hope could not help the smirk that found its way across her lips, "Uncle Kol knew they would retreat, and the direction they would retreat in. He sent a few cohorts ahead to ambush them. His men tore the Gauls to shreds."

Landon's face was typically serious, and utterly void of any hint of emotion, but judging by a slight twitch of his left eye, Hope could tell that the centurion disapproved. Hope felt irritation surging in her chest - what right did he have to judge her uncle? Her father might be a sadistic savage, but Kol was nothing like him. He was a good uncle, one who showered her with stories and gifts and never failed to make her laugh.

Hope closed her eyes. She had more fond memories of Kol than she could count. Her most treasured one was from just before her sixth birthday. It was one of the last times she ever saw her father smile, and one of the last memories she had of her aunt Rebekah at all. Kol was showing her how to make dough from flour and water, and they somehow started hurling flour at each other. A handful of it ended up on Rebekah, who furiously picked up the bowl of flour and emptied it on Kol.

Hope laughed so hard her stomach ached, while her father looked on with bemusement.

The snap of a branch brought Hope back to reality, and she remembered that those times were long gone. She was riding to Dyrrachium beside Landon. Landon, who had dutifully protected Josie for years. Landon, who saved Josie's sister from certain death. Landon, who put himself between her and a mob without hesitation.

Hope forcefully shoved her irritation aside.

"What about you, Kirby? Any war stories?" She asked instead.

"A few," Landon replied, his eyes shining with pride, "My unit crossed swords with many barbarian raiders in Cisalpine Gaul - Germans and Celts. I cut down my fair share of them. That was before I met Josie."

_Before I met Josie._

Those words sent Hope's mind swirling. Gods, she had only met the brunette three short months ago, hadn't she? Yet Hope felt as if it was a lifetime ago - in many ways, it was. Three months ago, she was sailing on the Ionian Sea, not marching across Greece. Three months ago, she was the proud commander of a war fleet, not a lowly prisoner. Three months ago, she was loyally- blindly devoted to her father, not contemplating defection to Alaric Saltzman Hispanianus.

Most importantly, three months ago, she didn't have Josie. The brunette, more than anything, took her beyond the point of no return.

Hope supposed she was no longer on her father's side, for her conscience forbade her from turning a blind eye to his barbarity any longer. Her father fed her a righteous tale - a tale of a hero fighting to free the masses from the shackles imposed on them by the nobles _,_ a champion of the Roman people against the corrupt Senate. She was a fool to fall for his lie, to believed that he cared for anything but himself, lest the plight of the common people. Just like she was a fool to follow him so blindly out of a misguided devotion to those family words that clearly meant nothing to him.

But for all her disillusion with her father, Hope was not on the Senate's side either. As cynical and deceitful her father's denunciations of the nobles as corrupt and out of touch were, those assertions were not any less true. The Senate was filled with men who cared only for their own enrichment and status, men who had long forgotten that their duty was first and foremost to their city and their people, not their selves, men who now trample over the common people and profit off their misery rather than defend their dignity and liberty.

Her father purported to fight to liberate of the Roman people, but in reality, he was fighting out of desperation to save himself from prosecution. And when he was presented an opportunity to seize ultimate power - the power to make himself _Rex_ \- he proved himself unable to resist the temptation. But his opponents were little better. Hope was fairly certain that Saltzman Hispanianus had genuine motivations - how could he not when he shared Josie's blood - but the people around him did not. The Senate, for all its pretensions to nobility, was not fighting to save the _res publica_ or liberty. It was fighting to save its own skin, to keep its pockets lined and its privileges undiminished.

Hope had no more tolerance for corruption than barbarity. No more tolerance for greedy old men than sadistic psychopaths.

But she had another choice. She didn't have to choose between her father and the Senate. She could choose Josie.

A Consul's daughter and already groundbreaking in more ways than she could count, Hope had no doubt that Josie had a long and celebrated public life ahead of her. Josie was genuine and kind, and she understood the need for change, she had said so herself. She would put her immense talents to use for the benefit of Rome and the Roman people, rather than herself.

Hope pondered abandoning her father but staying true to the cause, and her heart jittered when she realized it was possible, if only she chose Josie. And choosing Josie was no great hardship for her - in fact, it'd be a relief. She wanted to be with Josie. Josie, who was beautiful, kind, and easily the most extraordinary person she had ever met, even more so than her father, the old rebel who Hope had come to develop a grudging respect for.

Hope knew exactly what she had to do then. To turn her back on her father and leap into Josie's waiting arms, figuratively, of course, though hopefully literally too. It would be the easiest thing in the world. It _should_ be the easiest thing in the world, and yet it wasn't. Hope should have no trouble abandoning a man who had abandoned her long ago, and yet she couldn't.

And Hope knew exactly why.

The truth was, she had long let go of her loyalty to the monster that was Niklaus Mikaelson. But she could not let go of her loyalty to the gentle and loving father he had once been. She could not let go of her childish hopes that one day the monster will be gone and she will have her father back.

The truth was, Hope still loved her father, and she hated herself for it.

* * *

Josie huddled around the table with her father, Damon, and Dorian.

Meetings were usually attended by a good dozen people, but the tent was currently bare save the four of them, and for good reason.

"My sources report that a large legionnaire encampment was spotted outside Massalia almost a month ago," Damon dropped a small bundle of papyrus scrolls on the table and began laying them out one by one, "They were flying the banners of _Legio VIII Gallica._ "[iv]

"Massalia is merely days from the Alpes!" Dorian exclaimed, "How has he moved so quickly? The last we heard, Kol Mikaelson was still at Burdigala."[v][vi]

"His speed is uncanny, though my sources neglect to mention how this was achieved." Damon's tone was almost always somber these days, "Information from Italy remains scant."

"Can we safely assume that it is his intention to return to Italy then?" Josie spoke up, "If he only wishes to quarter for winter, then it makes little difference whether he does so in Burdigala or Massalia. The logical explanation is that Klaus means to have the 8th legion take the 13th's place in Rome."

"Perhaps," Her father hummed, "It is also possible that Klaus has sent for reinforcements from the West, and who better than his brother? Kol is cunning and our blockade of the waterway is not absolute, he could yet find a way to our shores."

Her father looked at Damon, who gave a non-committal shrug of his shoulder in return.

"They are equally plausible," He gestured at the scrolls of papyrus on the table, "I took the liberty of asking the governor of Sicily to forward us whatever intelligence he has gathered. As expected, there is very little that we do not already know."

"What about the activities of Klaus' agent? Maddox?" Dorian asked.

"What little evidence we have suggests that he has raised a fresh army," Damon slid a piece of parchment across the table, "We do not know how large this army is, but it is unlikely to be more than one or two legions, raw recruits with very few veterans among them, not yet an effective fighting force."

Her father picked up the papyrus and examined it with furrowed brows. When he was finished, he handed it to Dorian and stared at the documents scattered across the table, deep in thought. Josie took the opportunity to obverse her father. He looked tired - more than tired, _exhausted._ Tristan de Martel's defection was a coup for them, and yet there was not a trace of a General on the brink of victory in his features. All she saw was bone-deep exhaustion, and that worried her. Josie wondered what could be troubling her father. She studied his body language more intently for clues, but her father guarded his thoughts well, even from her. She supposed she could ask Meredith. If her father was confiding in someone other than her, it would be the brown-haired physician, but Meredith was not the most forthcoming person either, especially with information she had been told in confidence.

Josie was debating whether she should approach the physician anyways when her father broke the silence.

"We need not worry about Maddox's legions right now. It will take months to drill them into shape, and until then they pose little threat to us over there in Italy. But we do need to worry about Kol. If he intends to remain in Rome then that is well, and if not then he must not be allowed to join with Klaus in Greece," Her father nodded to himself, "I will instruct Fell to keep a close eye on ships passing through the Ionian Sea. For now, there is little we can do but wait for Kol to make his next move."

Josie pondered for a moment.

They knew Klaus was looking for reinforcements from the West. They knew Maddox was raising fresh legions in Italy. And they knew Kol was on the move. They'd known all that for months now, despite the scarcity of information from Italy. It could be that Klaus was ignorant of this. After all, his arrogance was well-known, and it was entirely possible that he truly thought the nest he had cast over Italy was impervious. But nests, by definition, had gaps in them, and information always found its way through gaps, no matter how small.

Josie shook her head.

No, Klaus was arrogant and vicious, but he was no fool. Had he been then he would be six feet under now. It was not plausible for him to assume that his enemies would have absolutely no way of knowing what was happening in Italy, that every one of his enemies' spies had been caught, that there was not a single Senator left in Rome still sympathetic to his enemies' cause, and make no contingency plans at all.

Moving his remaining legions east to Greece was obvious. _Too_ obvious. And Klaus had a penchant of doing the unexpected, of taking his enemies by surprise so that he would have won the battle before they even realized it had started. More than once, he had devastated the tribes of Gaul before they could muster their forces, and he had forced them from Rome by making a lightning strike with the skeleton a single legion. Making a move so predictable was simply not Klaus' modus operandi, not to mention Kol had no easy way of reaching Greece. They'd commanded the seas since Fell battered Klaus' fleet, and the land route through Illyria was long and perilous. By making it appear as though the 8th legion was heading for Greece, however, Klaus had ensured they would focus on the East, and kept their attention from other places.

_Like the south._

Startled, Josie's head snapped up and she hastily cut off whatever her father was saying.

"What if Kol is not reinforcing his brother in Greece? What if he had other plans all along?" Words left her mouth rapidly, her heart pounding. Her father looked puzzled and that made Josie even more anxious. She had to make him understand fast.

"Wha-"

"Africa is held by two legions, and Sicily has no significant garrison at all," She spoke again before her father could even finish the sentence, "One veteran legion is more than enough to overwhelm its defenses. The Strait of Sicily is lightly patrolled compared to the Strait of Otranto, and if Kol can muster enough ships, even for a brief period, he can overcome our western fleet-"

"-and take the island by storm before word ever reaches us. The campaign season will be over and we will be powerless to do anything but look on in despair until Spring." Her father finished.

"We take his legion, he takes our grain fields and shipyards. An eye for an eye." Damon added, his voice grave and urgent, "It is truly Mars' blessing that the governor has already begun strengthening his defenses to guard against Massinissa of Numidia."

"Nevertheless, we must dispatch a fresh warning without delay," Her father nodded, "For all we know, Kol could be south of Rome already. We are fortunate Josette deduced the scheme so quickly."

Josie's chest warmed with pride at the compliment, and her back sagged in relief, feeling certain they had just dodged an arrow.

* * *

"Alright, Pedro."

It was something of a cliché. Whenever her favorite brunette was occupied, Hope found herself seeking out the company of the youthful legionnaire.

Legionnaire, of course, was an awkward term to describe Pedro with, for he was young, maybe a full decade younger than Hope. He looked more like a boy yet to reach adulthood than a soldier and that sent a pang through Hope's heart. They lived in times where children had to pick up swords to defend their homes. Spaniards, in particular, had suffered. Centuries of tribal infighting was followed by one tyrannical Roman governor after another, more beast than man - wolves lusting for blood, tearing through the flock of sheep with their sharp teeth and long claws, plundering and murdering in the name of glory, leaving an unerasable stain on Rome's honor.

Oftentimes, a governor would arrive in Spain heavily indebted, and leave with their pocket brimming with gold. It was easy to become rich in Spain. Easy to lie with a twirl of the tongue, easy to start a war with the stroke of a pen, easy to pillage the grain fields and the silver mines, easy to slaughter the men and sell the women and children into slavery. And when Josie's father arrived, it was easy for him to win over the provincials, so startling was the effect of a pinch of kindness on a people long used to terror and treachery.[vii]

Hope looked at Pedro, one skinny arm gripping the bow and three bony fingers loading the arrow, his hold stiff but steady. The balanced dieting and rigorous training of the legion must have put some muscles on him already, yet looking at his small frame, all Hope could think about was how young he was. And even though he had already survived a battle, there was still a childlike innocence in his eyes. Hope remembered something Saltzman Hispanianus had written then, words that had shocked her and left her fingers trembling and her chest tight.[iix]

_"There were no children in Spain, only soldiers and victims. If we won, they would get to live their lives with scars on their bodies and minds. And if we lost, they would either be dead or sold into slavery. Elijah was not above cruelty, nor was he above murdering children. In fact, it was one of his favorite tactics. To raze defiant cities to the ground, then affix the corpses of their children to a single line of crosses that stretched for miles without end. He would forbid anyone from taking the corpses down until the flesh was thoroughly gnawed away by maggots and ants, and whatever remained had rotten beyond recognition. Only when the stench became too much to bear would he permit the corpses to be removed, but even then, he would not allow a proper burial. It sent a stark message to the Spanish people, that if they treasured their children's lives, they should think twice before joining his enemy, i.e. me. Elijah did not relish this gruesomeness, nor did he loathe it, for everything about him was cold and calculating, and every atrocity he committed was essentially pragmatic. Few things are as powerful as terror, and few things inspire terror like the mass murder of children, combined with the wholesale destruction of entire communities. Elijah gained more and more ground, and in my desperation, I turned a willfully blind eye to children who could barely pick up a sword claiming they were old enough to enlist. I was heartbroken that children as young as twelve had to fight for their home, and ashamed that I allowed it to happen."_

Her gaze returning to Pedro, Hope hoped that unlike so many before him, he would get to live a long and happy life.

"Relax your grip on the bow a little, you don't want to clench i- yes, that's good." Hope continued her instructions, "The same goes for the arrow. Don't clench it. Now, make sure your index finger is above the end of the arrow, and your middle and ring fingers below it, and dra-"

"-or you could hold the arrow between your thumb and index finger-" The voice of a goddess broke Hope's train of thought. She turned around and was greeted with a sight that made her heart accelerate furiously. Josie was walking toward her with smooth brown curls cascading behind her shoulder, sunlight reflecting in her eyes with a glint of mischief and a characteristically radiant smile on her pink lips - lips that always looked so soft, like marshmallows. Saliva pooled in Hope's mouth and she swallowed it hastily, her throat dry to the point of smoking. Hope bit the inside of her mouth, and wondered if Josie's lips would feel as soft against her own as they looked. She ran her tongue between her lips, hoping they were Josie's. Josie, who was beautiful, and brilliant, and kind, and-

"-makes your draw more natural."

-and undermining her authority.

Hope suppressed a smirk.

Pedro lowered his bow and twisted his head around to looked at her, confused.

"Certainly, Pedro," Hope didn't take her eyes off Josie. Their eyes had met at some point, and Josie raised an eyebrow at her almost challengingly, "Listen to Josie if you wish to be taught with an _inferior_ technique."

"Inferior?" Josie's hands flew to her heart, her tone was offended but her eyes twinkled, amused. "Speak sense, will you? My technique guarantees a clean release, whereas yours does not."

Pedro seemed to be swayed by Josie, and loaded the arrow once more, this time pinching it between his thumb and index finger.

_Can't have that now, can we?_

"That will most assuredly be achieved with practice." Hope could not help the grin that threatened to overtake her face. Josie had that kind of effect on her. She made her head spin, her heart flutter, and her knees weak. Everything about Josie was overwhelming to the point of dizzying - the sweet scent of soap like lavender, expressive eyes that were soft but confident, kind and intelligent, a smile more radiant than the sun itself, never missing from those unspeakably inviting lips- "What will be less assured with your technique are the accuracy and the consistency of mine."

Pedro's eyes were now darting back and forth between her and Josie, uncertainty swirling in them.

"Of course," Josie's eyes lit up, the corner of her mouth twitching and she turned to Pedro with a sweet smile, "But practice takes time, time which we may not have. My technique helps a beginner to achieve competence more quickly. As my father says, it is important to be ready for anything at all times. Don't you agree, Pedro?"

Pedro, the little traitor, nodded eagerly and returned his sight to the training dummy. He raised the bow with his one arm and tugged the string with the other, holding the arrow between his thumb and index finger. Hope could not fault him though, not when that Venus-blessed smile made her heart race and her toes curl without fail. Accepting defeat, because really, she had no defense against Josie, not when everything about her was enthralling and breathtaking and simply _irresistible,_ Hope told Pedro to keep pulling the string back until the arrow released itself from his grip.

Pedro's arms were strained but not shaking, and the arrow punched through the air with a whipping sound. Hope's eyes followed the projectile and found it embedded in the dummy's chest dead center.

* * *

Hope was the one who suggested they go for a walk.

Josie was all too happy to agree.

"Where did you just come from?"

"A routine meeting. My father wanted to discuss logistics - sentries, patrols, foraging parties and such, very technical and not at all interesting."

Guilt crept up her chest for lying to Hope but Josie pushed it back down. Whatever she felt for Hope, the auburn-haired woman was still a prisoner. She was still loyal to their enemy and her father had been very clear that she was not to share any information about the war with Hope.

_Orders are orders._

"I see I did not miss out on much then."

They walked past a group of legionnaires. Some of them sat on the ground, chatting quietly while sharpening their swords with stones. Others were sparring. Josie did a double-take and almost laughed when she realized Lizzie and Landon were among them.

Lizzie held a long blade with both her hands, and pressed Landon with confident steps and swift strokes. Her sister was grinning, clearly relishing every moment, and Josie found it almost difficult to believe that she had only started training a few short months ago, given the self-assuredness of her movements.

Landon wielded a standard-issue _gladius,_ his face carefully composed as always. Josie supposed dueling was as much a clash of steel as it was a battle of minds. It was not all that different from diplomacy in that regard. The most important thing was to be in control of one's self - thoughts, emotions, actions - and be hyper-aware of everything one's counterpart did - every quiver of the finger, every raise of the eyebrow, every twitch of the mouth.

Josie knew how to read people, and a small glint in Landon's eyes told her that he, too, was enjoying himself.

"Your sister is becoming an adept swordswoman," Hope commented with a hum, her eyes trailing over Lizzie's form appraisingly. "Her grip could use some work, mind you, and she tends to give away her next move, but her reflexes are quick, and her balance is solid."

Josie scrunched her eyebrows together. Truth be told, her knowledge of warriorship was rather diminutive, and her skills of archery did not extend to swordplay. She always figured that she could let Landon worry about the fighting while she focused on her statecraft.

Hope made a small noise in her throat and moved closer. A strong scent invaded her nostrils and Josie couldn't help but inhale. Hope smelled good. She smelled like cut grass, sweet and refreshing, and she was close, so tantalizingly close that Josie could almost feel the soft tip of Hope's nose on the back of her neck. Hope was not touching her, but Josie felt a shadow of _something_ on her skin, wind maybe, or a soft warmth that Hope always emanated.

It was maddening.

"Look at her right wrist," Hope breathed, and it felt so startling, so _intimate_ that Josie almost jumped. Ironically, Hope's closeness had sent her mind into such overdrive that she had forgotten the auburn-haired woman was there. Josie's breath caught in her throat, and she thanked Venus that Hope could not see how furiously her cheeks were burning. "Your sister turns her right wrist ever so slightly whenever she is about to strike. And always in the opposite direction of her swing. Kirby is too observant a fighter not to notice it."

True to Hope's word, Landon predicted Lizzie's next move. Lizzie swung her sword upward at Landon's left side, and he blocked it swiftly. Landon pushed his _gladius_ down and sent Lizzie's blade flying.

"Nice work," Landon said, almost smiling.

Lizzie crossed her arms and huffed, and Josie moved along, putting some desperately-needed distance between Hope and herself.

Josie finally breathed again when she was sure she couldn't smell the sweet scent of grass anymore.

"I know very little about swordplay."

"But you are quite familiar with archery," A part of her wanted to turn around so she could see those darling blue eyes of Hope's. Another part of her thought it for the best that she couldn't, lest the heat returns to her cheeks and she makes a fool of herself.

In the end, logic and reason were trounced by her treacherous heart, and Josie turned back around. Brown met blue and once again, and air left Josie's lungs.

_It's unfair how beautiful she is._

Unfair how blue those eyes were. Unfair how silky that auburn mane was. Unfair how delectable those red lips-

"Did your father teach you?"

Thankfully, Hope's words snapped Josie out of her trance before she could do something truly mortifying. Like drool. Or blurt out another profession of love. Or-

"Josie?"

Josie blinked and almost scowled at herself.

_Get a grip, Josette!_

"No," Shaking her head was the easy part. Trying to keep the flutter out of her voice was the tricky part. Judging by the smirk dancing on Hope's lips, Josie thought she must have done a terrible job at it. "No, Jeremy did. After what happened with the pirates three years ago, he told me I ought to know how to defend myself since he won't always be there."

The permanence those words had now taken slammed into Josie like a galloping horse.

Jeremy won't always be there. Jeremy will never be there again. No matter how much Josie wishes to the contrary, Jeremy is still dead. There is still a war going on. And Hope and she still can't be together because of it.

Tears pooled in Josie's eyes, and she was not sure if they were for Jeremy or for the future that she could have had with Hope if only things were different.

_If only._

Josie blinked the tears away, and Hope was kind enough to avert her eyes while she did it. It was yet another reminder of the reason she'd fallen for Hope, that underneath the aloof exterior was a kind and gentle soul.

Normally, that thought would bring a fuzzy warmth all over her, but right now, all she felt was an unforgiving chill.

And it took Josie one look to know that Hope felt the same chill.

* * *

[i] The Romans didn’t have shortcake, this tall and incredibly immature author just couldn’t resist.

[ii] _Circulus Cantabricus –_ the Cantabrian Circle, a light cavalry tactic employed by the Cantabri of Iberia. The Romans adopted it after crushing Cantabrian resistance. Spaniards were considered the best auxiliary cavalry, and they gradually replaced Italians in that role during the imperial era.

[iii] The Parthian shot was a light cavalry tactic employed by the Parthians and their Sassanian Persian successors. The Parthians used this tactic to great success at the Battle of Carrhae and decimated Crassus’ legions. This tactic was also used by steppe nomads, such as the Scythians, the Huns and the Mongols.

[iv] _Legio VIII Gallica -_ 8th Legion Gaul. Historically, the 8th legion was one of Caesar's oldest and most elite legions during the Gallic Wars, and remained loyal to him in the civil war that followed. It was reconstituted during the imperial era and horned by new cognomen _Augusta,_ as in the Emperor Augustus, due to its performance in battle.

[v] Alpes is Latin for the Alps.

[vi] Burdigala is Latin for Bourdeaux. The city was a key commercial hub in Roman Aquitania, and was linked to other key cities in Gaul by highways.

[vii] Spain was exceedingly rich in silver and precious metal deposits, and the Roman Republic's rule over the provinces was more often than not despotic and duplicitous to the extreme. Spain and Asia Minor particularly suffered as their wealth gave them great potential for exploitation. Predatory Roman governors often targetted Spanish tribes in control of silver mines. 

[iix] Roman legionnaires were issued a balanced ration of grains, vegetables, and meats. An unbalanced diet generally indicated serious supply issues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know absolutely nothing about archery so feel to correct any mistakes I've made.
> 
> Wonder what Kol is up to?
> 
> My creative juices are still pretty dry, but I'm trying my hardest to write more. It would mean a lot to me if you guys could leave a kudo or a comment so I'd be motivated not to let you all down. I hope you guys enjoyed the Hosie content and I promise there will be more in the coming chapters.
> 
> I've been doing some thinking lately, and I realized that the history nerd in me got way too carried away by the war and intrigue, and I've kinda taken my eyes off the ball, which is Hosie. So I've gone back and written some new scenes and chapters to get a better balance between the Hosie and the war, and build everything up more properly. That's why update has been a little slow, I basically had to take a few chapters apart completely. I promise I'll update again as soon as the next chapter is ready.
> 
> I was gonna spend a few more days on this chapter, but I finally read the Hanahaki Disease AU and RIP my Hosie heart, I had to get it out today.
> 
> Trivia Time (I might as well start calling it history lesson time)
> 
> It took the Roman Republic six wars over the course of seventy years to conquer mainland Greece.
> 
> The First Macedonian War was fought between Rome and its Aetolian allies and Philip of Macedon for hegemony over Illyria. There were no decisive engagements as Rome was fighting Hannibal in the west at the same time. The war ended in a stalemate.
> 
> Hostilities resumed five years later. The Romans and the Aetolians were able to decisively defeat Philip in battle, and forced Macedon to give up all its possessions outside its ancient borders. The Aetolians, however, believed they were not as adequately rewarded with territories from Philip as promised, and war broke out between the former allies.
> 
> The Aetolian War was part of a wider conflict between Rome and the Hellenistic Seleucid Empire for hegemony over all of Greece. The Aetolian League on its own could not match Roman power, and was beaten. The Romans then decisively defeated Seleucid forces in battle and gave all Seleucid territories outside Syria to their Greek allies.
> 
> The Third Macedonian War was fought between Rome and Philip's son, Perseus. At this point, it had become clear to all that Rome intended to dominate Greece and saw its supposed allies as vassals. Macedon was the only Greek power that could still effectively challenge the Romans. Rome, however, prevailed once more. The Kingdom of Macedon was dissolved and its monarchy abolished. Its territories were divided into four client republics.
> 
> Macedonians, however, were too proud to be dominated as clients and continued to resist Roman rule. Anthriscus, who claimed to be a son of Perseus, raised a Thracian army and led a revolt against Rome. The uprising was crushed and Rome directly annexed Macedon - its first overseas province other than Sicily.
> 
> The Achaean League was a former ally of Philip, then Rome's staunchest ally in Greece. Public mood, however, turned against the Romans when their intentions to subjugate Greece became clear. Rome only secured its neutrality in the Third Macedonian War by holding hostages. After the final defeat of Macedon, the Romans made public their intention to dissolve the Achaean League and end Greek independence. The Acheans declared a suicidal war and was promptly crushed. The great city of Corinth was razed to the ground as punishment and Greek resistance was snuffed out for good.


End file.
